When We Take Different Paths - Fics
by friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: My submissions for the WWTDP event. Latest: Natsu claims he's never felt attraction, but it's a lie. Meanwhile, Gray likes him, but he hasn't told all of the truth either. {Erzajane, Luvia, Gratsu/Natray, Jucana, Yukinerva, Stingue, Canajane, Lucana, Chendy, Doranhar/Laharbolt, Groke, Sildarts, Fraxus, Jerik, Orfus, Mikasildarts.}
1. WLW - Soft (Mirza)

**A/N:** Prompt = soft + Mirza. For WLW week of the **When We Take Different Paths** event!

Canon-divergent, set in the Tartaros arc.

 _Trigger warning:_ for drugging someone against his will.

* * *

 **Soft**

There was nothing soft about Mirajane and Erza. Both were harder than stone, like a barren windswept mountaintop. Both were evil in that way which bordered justice on vengeance.

Erza planted her foot in a soldier's helmet guard to make sure the woman was not faking being down. The fight had ended too quickly for both of them.

"They're soft," Mira grinned, eyes alight as she turned away from the probably-already-dead man she'd just kicked in the crotch. "That was too easy."

Erza smirked. "You're a wonder."

"You just like me like this," Mira laughed, running her satanic tail through her claws and giving Erza a flirty look.

"Yeah," Erza shrugged, "but it also turns me on to see you grab a half-demon by her hair and throw her through a wall."

Mira licked her lips. "She wasn't a terribly powerful half-demon, unfortunately. Otherwise that would've been more fun."

"Soft," Erza agreed, stepping to her side around the bodies that littered the ground. "From Tartaros and for such a high-value target, I expected more fighting power…"

Her body hardened.

Mira turned to her. "What is it, love?"

"The chairman. He…that tea…"

Startling, Mira stroked her own neck thoughtfully. Her demon blood made it hard for her to notice, but it was there: he'd tried to drug her.

Erza stumbled a little and Mira caught her around the waist, tail wrapping around Erza's legs for extra support.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes." Erza passed a hand over her eyes. "There, it's gone."

Erza may call Mira the wonder, but Erza was full human and had just repelled poison from her own body. _That_ was a wonder.

"That creep," Mira hissed, and found her voice going lower, rougher, sliding into the pits of hell. "Monster."

"He's working for them," Erza rumbled.

Together, they looked back toward the extravagant home of the Magic Council's former chairman. Mira caught a glimpse of him, peering through the window at them.

She grinned cruelly. "Let's go talk to him, shall we?"

"Yes."

Erza kissed her cheek, which Mira responded to by sinking her fangs lovingly into Erza's neck.

"Come on, lovely," Erza smiled.

Mira watched the ripple of Erza's abs as she stretched and began walking, the muscles of her arms knotted and thick. Gorgeous.

They trudged to the house, not bothering to hurry. They could see him in the window now, definitely looking worried.

"Are you ladies alright?" he asked as they entered the house. "I can't believe someone actually attacked; they actually came… That was impressive fighting. Are you sure you're okay?"

"What did you originally come up with it for?" Erza demanded.

"What?"

"That tea," Mira said.

"That was herbs from my garden—" His eyes were darting back and forth between them as they both took a step forward.

"You look concerned," Erza said, leaning in with a smile. "Don't worry, neither of us is about to collapse."

"Th-That's good…"

"Indeed it is." Mira scraped a knife-sharp fingernail along the counter. "You know what happens to women who are drugged unconscious? It's not pretty."

In the silence, his panting breaths were so loud.

"Ah," Erza said. "Here it is."

She lifted a half-full kettle. The room seemed to freeze in place, all but Erza, meandering to the cupboard and fetching a cup.

"Why don't you try some?" Mira asked the chairman. "It was quite tasty."

He trembled so hard his fingers shook against the edge of the counter. He didn't utter a word.

Erza turned back around with a mug full of the liquid and held it out to him, and finally his voice began to work.

"No," he said faintly. "Please don't…"

Erza cocked her head. An innocuous gesture. Except the room was wound tighter than a spring, that thick feeling in the air of a storm about to burst.

"How many times have you heard someone say those same words to you?"

He whimpered.

"And how many times," Erza went on softly, "did you show them mercy?"

Mira was shaking now too, seeing all his guilt plainly in his face. What a terrible little man. So in love with power. Using it only to get what he wanted. How many people had he broken? And this was the man who had led the Magic Council for a decade, had promised to guard and protect wizards and ensure justice.

What was justice?

"If you can tell me you showed someone mercy just once—" Erza began, withdrawing the mug.

"Yes!" he gasped. "I did! Of course I did! Uhm, er, let's see, there—there was—"

Erza threw the poisoned tea in his face.

The chairman screamed, clawing at his eyes as if she'd coated him in acid. It took a terrible minute of watching him dissolve into a panic attack and writhe on the floor before the drugs took their effect.

As he stilled, Mira found her breath was loud and violent. She inhaled and looked at her girlfriend: red hair radiant in the evening light, face set.

This was justice right here.

"Fuck, I'm so in love with you," she whispered. She hardly realized she'd said it, but Erza looked up, met her eyes, and crossed the room in two long strides.

Then she pressed her lips to Mira's and kissed her. Mira wrapped Erza in an embrace while Erza stroked through the wild hair of her satan soul, hands sliding up and down Mira's sides in a way which was both desperate and strong; needy and doting.

"Your power," Mira murmured against Erza's lips. "It turns me on."

"Everything about you…" Erza's fingers pattered along Mira's spine, gripping and massaging. Erza had never been very good with words, but she made up for it with all the other ways she communicated.

Mira didn't want gentle, romantic words anyway. She wasn't interested in soft sentiments whispered in each other's ears. She lived for _this:_ standing on the edge of the abyss together, fighting darkness with darkness, pulling each other back before either of them fell all the way, embracing their anger together, overcoming powerlessness together. Their stories were in parallel, the ways the world had shaped them into tougher versions of themselves.

As Erza kissed beneath Mira's ear, Erza asked, "So what next?"

"Let's be good people and take him home," Mira said, grinning. "Then let's ransack that fucking guildhall until there's nothing left when he wakes."

Erza nodded, eagerness lighting her eyes.

"Tartaros," Erza hissed. "We're coming for you."


	2. WLW - Comfort (Luvia)

**A/N:** When We Take Different Paths, women-loving-women week #2. Prompt = comfort + Luvia.

* * *

 **Comfort**

"My family knows."

Juvia's doomed voice made Lucy look up at the open door, blinking in surprise. It was far from unusual for Juvia to come over unannounced—it was weirder if a week went by where she didn't—but she didn't usually look distressed.

Seeing Juvia on the verge of tears almost scared her.

"What happened to visiting your family all weekend?" she asked, leading Juvia to the sofa, but Juvia pulled out of her grasp. Lucy pretended it didn't hurt.

When Juvia clamped her mouth shut looking like she was about to throw up, though, disappointment fled. Lucy pulled her to the kitchen.

"They know," Juvia said again shakily, collapsing against the side of the sink. "Fuck."

"You look pale." Lucy couldn't keep the hitch out of her voice.

It wasn't simply an expression: Juvia was absolutely white—lips faded and eyes grey.

Juvia shook her head.

As they stood there, poised over the sink, Juvia broke the tension with a sob.

Tears spilled over and threaded down her cheeks. Lucy combed her fingers through Juvia's hair, pulling it back from her face, and held her close against her body. For once, she wasn't thinking about the touch, just the woman: her whimper that cracked the room into shards and shattered the calm with pain.

"Breathe," Lucy coached. "Inhale, that's right. Let it out. Good."

It took a moment, but Juvia got her breathing under control. The sob seemed to have been a one-time occurrence: in its place came a still, silent grief.

"My family knows I'm gay," Juvia said, simply, at last meeting Lucy's eyes with a look of devastation. Like the world was ending. In a way, it had.

"I thought you were going to take Gray with you?" Lucy asked gently, rubbing her back.

"Yeah, he knows my family so well it wouldn't be awkward… We both—we can't be seen… He and Natsu—if anyone knew it would destroy both of their careers. Well, you know that. And me…if my family knew…and now they know…it's going to be therapy and exorcisms and going to mass or chapel every weeknight—" Juvia's voice rose with panic.

"Juvia," Lucy interrupted softly, halting the cascade of words, "talk me through it. How did they figure it out?"

"We refused to kiss. We were taking a sibling photo and both my sisters had their husbands there, and my mom suggested we take one of all the couples kissing. Which sounds awkward to me, but you know my mother: what she says goes. And Gray and I—we couldn't do it."

"Of course you couldn't. You should never be forced to kiss someone."

"Right," Juvia said thickly. "I wouldn't do that to him, and he wouldn't do that to me. We care about each other too much to do something so stupid," Juvia laughed. "We got around the sharing a room thing—"

"Your mom let you share a room?"

"Not just allowed: she forced it. There weren't enough rooms, which is true, and she said he and I could _of course_ share and she actually winked at us."

"What did you do?" Lucy gaped. "Did he sleep on the floor?"

"We shared the bed." Juvia shrugged. "It's a big bed. You know me and Gray. We've known each other for…god, how many years now? It was fun: after the stress of the day, we'd have a mini-sleepover and chat before falling asleep. He…" A special smile came over Juvia's face. "He really loves your brother."

Lucy smiled. "If one of them were a woman, they'd have gotten married a decade ago."

"Too true," Juvia said sadly.

Her tears had dried up, but this seemed to draw them out again, initiating another silent rainfall.

"Oh, darling," Lucy whispered. She dared again to put her hand on Juvia's arm. Juvia didn't shrug her off, and to Lucy it felt like a wonder.

They were still embracing—Juvia leaning even closer now into her arms—so Lucy led them to the sofa to be more comfortable.

"I'll never be able to get married," Juvia sniffed.

"I thought you didn't want to?"

"I don't, but seeing my sisters… Sometimes I want that: to wear a ring and call myself 'Mrs' and be able to say I'm heading home to my wife, my wife and I are on a date, let me introduce you to my wife… It would be nice, you know?"

"Maybe one day," Lucy whispered.

"In my dreams," Juvia sighed.

"Perhaps your sisters' grandchildren will live to see that day."

"Maybe." Juvia's smiled dimmed. "Maybe they won't have their grandmother telling them that when your husband puts his manhood in you for the first time, it changes you…"

"Oh my god, she actually said that?"

"That's not the worst, either."

Lucy made a sound of pain and squeezed her hand, leaning in close until their shoulders touched. They both sighed.

"When we refused to kiss…all night long people teased us. As I was heading to bed, I passed Gray in the hallway and said goodnight to him, and my sister Umi was there, and she gave me this _look_. 'No goodnight kiss?' And then she shook her head and said, 'Come on, Juvia, stop pretending.'

"Mar came around the corner at that very moment and said, 'Oh my word, Juvia, you're lying?' And then the accusations started and it all came out. The whole family was up almost until midnight arguing. When I was crying so much I almost passed out, Gray threw our things in the car and drove me home. He drove all night and let me sleep."

"He's a generous heart," Lucy murmured, smiling and fingering an errant curl of Juvia's hair. "God, it almost feels like kissing Gray would've been the better option."

Juvia shook her head.

"I won't lie to them. Misdirect, omit, rephrase—sure. But when my mother asked me point blank if we were dating, I said no. And then she asked why we pretended, and I just…told her. I wanted them to know, so I could get it over with. And then it was so much worse than I could ever have imagined."

"I'm so, so sorry," Lucy whispered. Eyes watering, she leaned her head automatically against Juvia's, and startled when Juvia cupped her cheek. "S-So sorry, darling."

"My father isn't speaking to me," Juvia murmured. "Although that's always his reaction when he doesn't like my choices. My sisters are furious, who the hell knows why. And my mother…she still thinks she can change me.

"My grandparents think I change too, but at least from them, it's naïveté? But my mom…she looks into my eyes and sees it. She knows I love women the way she loves my dad. I think she's always known—it's why she was so eager for me to share a room with a man. She thinks I'm unnatural and need to be cured at all costs."

They were both crying now, shoulders shaking against each other.

"I don't want to be something curable," Juvia whispered. "I don't want to be a problem for everyone else to solve. I don't want to be changed into something that's not me and never could be."

* * *

They talked and cried and cuddled long into the evening. That turned into watching a random channel on the TV that was playing some old black-and-white.

They both adored black-and-whites and cooed over the sappy romantic subplot and laughed at the innocent jokes. It felt like a different age: one in which they would've been allowed to love and be happy. It couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but the characters on the screen made life seem so easy.

Lucy persuaded Juvia to stay the night—said she ought not to go home alone. Juvia said she didn't _want_ to go home alone.

As they prepared for bed, Lucy's brain started doing familiar anxious loops—never sure, as always, where the line lay between them…

But with Juvia so distraught, and they were best friends after all; surely it was okay.

Lucy told Juvia come sleep in the big bed with her.

And so she did, cuddling up and lacing their fingers together as they fell asleep.

Lucy woke first, ever the morning person. She tried not to jostle the bed, but there was a sleepy hum as she rose, so she leaned back to tenderly touch Juvia's cheek.

She loved that intimate touches were okay when one was falling asleep or waking up: the best time, when closeness and affection were not scorned or made awkward by subtext. Love was purer at dusk and dawn.

"My life," Juvia murmured sleepily, "feels a little more survivable."

Lucy smiled. Juvia grinned at her, eyes still closed against the pale light. Then Juvia's face scrunched.

"Shit. It's Sunday."

Lucy wanted to ask what this had to do with anything, but she knew. Juvia's aunt lived in town and was always after her to attend mass. And if she'd heard about the latest revelation…

"Have breakfast with me," Lucy said.

"Mm?"

"Let's go get waffles." Eagerness thrummed through her as the idea grew. "After you're awake, and after my walk with Natsu, we'll go to my favorite place down the street. Sound good?"

"Sounds lovely," Juvia sighed contentedly. "Thank you."

Lucy just smiled. _Of course,_ was the only answer she had to that. _I will always want to have breakfast with you and hold you and love you and sleep next to you._

"Natsu and I always walk together on Sunday mornings. You keep sleeping like I know you want to," Lucy laughed, "and get up whenever. There's coffee, and I set out an extra towel in the shower."

Juvia's eyes finally opened, and she stared up at Lucy with a look that truly _saw_ her—a look which seized Lucy's heart with how warm and happy and appreciative it was. Between that and how cute and gorgeous Juvia looked burrowed into the pillow, Lucy wished she could clutch this moment and have a thousand more like it.

"Say hi to your brother for me," Juvia yawned, smiling at her.

Lucy petted her cheek and got a hum of contentment.

"Sleep well, darling."

With greater confidence than she usually felt, Lucy leaned in and kissed Juvia's cheek.

* * *

"Shh," Lucy said, opening the door before Natsu could knock his booming knock.

"Um, hello to you too, sis. What, do you have a girl over?"

Lucy blushed against her will.

"As a matter of fact, I do have a woman over, and she's still sleeping, so if you don't mind…"

Natsu's eyes glowed. "Oo, who is it? Spill!"

Buttoning her coat, she took his arm and they set off down the sidewalk toward the large park at the bottom of the hill.

"It's Juvia, and she's over because she's having a hard time."

"I heard." Natsu made a noise of sympathy. "Gray told me."

"It was so sweet of him to go with her."

"It was. I'm so grateful for her. They cover for each other all the time."

Lucy squeezed his arm. She knew that under it all, Natsu hated it—not that Juvia and Gray would pretend to date each other sometimes to throw off suspicion, but that they had to at all. Gray and Juvia hated it too: they all did, but there wasn't any other option in this world of theirs.

"Which route?" Natsu asked as they crossed the road to the trailhead.

"Left. I have to be back in time for breakfast."

"Oo, Lulu! Is it a date?" Natsu teased. She punched his shoulder.

"No, it isn't! Juvia is going through some incredibly tough stuff; I'm not going to make it tougher by asking her out right now."

"Lucy."

His unusually serious tone made her stop and look at him.

"Things will always be tough. Especially for people like us. I know you don't want to start a relationship on an unhealthy, unequal dynamic. And that's a good goal. But waiting for life to be perfectly ready will keep you waiting forever. Life is complicated and if you want someone, you should tell them so. Relationships are messy no matter how much you plan for them."

She leaned into his shoulder as they continued walking, and he wrapped an arm around her.

"When did you get so wise to this stuff?" she asked.

He laughed softly.

"From Gray. He used to withdraw when he was emotionally tired as a form of self-preservation. Save it up for the moments when he could give me his all. But we both realized: this time now is all we've got. So we pour all our love into each other each day, because who knows what'll happen tomorrow? Who knows if we'll be too exhausted to be kind, or if one of us will get injured, or if everything were to change?"

Lucy sighed and stared up at the golden autumn trees. "You make it sound scary and less scary at the same time."

He laughed, a big belly laugh. "Oh, sis. Okay, so I'll ask again: is it a date?"

"Still not a date, Natsu."

* * *

But it totally felt like a date.

"You've got syrup on your chin," Lucy laughed.

Juvia snorted and wiped it off. "I'm a messy eater."

"I think it's impossible not to be with waffles. Unless you're being very careful and not having any fun at all."

"I didn't realize eating was supposed to be an adventure. I think I've been doing it wrong," Juvia laughed.

"You should've known me and Natsu in childhood. We had major food fights sometimes."

"I've heard about those," Juvia grinned. "When Gray moved away, we wrote letters sometimes like pen pals. He told me all about meeting these two kids and how they'd had a jell-o fight the first day he met them. I got so jealous of the kids that were his new best friends."

She smiled at Lucy, who looked surprised.

"I never knew that."

Juvia shrugged, smiling. "I'm glad _now,_ obviously. Because I got two best friends out of the bargain when my family moved. And I got to see Gray happy with a man who is good for him. But at the time, I hated you guys from a distance."

Lucy let out a surprised bark of laughter. "I'm grateful you don't hate me anymore."

After a delightful breakfast, they returned to Lucy's flat and puttered around, talkative and also in that cheerful haze of post-meal lethargy. As they sat on the sofa drinking coffee, Lucy's phone rang.

Lucy frowned. "People don't normally call me on Sundays…"

She walked into the kitchen and picked up. The caller shocked and confused her, and before she knew what she was doing, she was saying, "Yes, she's here."

Shit. She hoped that was the right decision.

Lucy peeked around the door jam. "It's for you. Your…mother."

With a dread-filled expression Juvia rose and took the receiver, errantly untangling the twists in the cord as she said, "Hello?"

Lucy hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to leave Juvia her privacy or stay for moral support, but Juvia met her eyes and didn't shoo her off.

Juvia's mother was shrill enough Lucy could hear every word.

"I finally found you. I just talked to Auntie and she said she didn't see you this morning. Where were you? I thought you were going to Saint Mark's with her. Didn't she talk to you? Are you sick? Don't tell me you got lost again. Are you okay?"

"Mom." Juvia inhaled. "I never said I would go. I had a breakfast date."

"Date. You went on a date with Lucy."

"A _friend_ date."

Lucy flinched automatically, but the statement confused her more than anything. Was Juvia just saying that because this was her mother? It wasn't like Juvia would admit if it _were_ a romantic date…

"Instead of attending church, you went out…"

"Mom, I'm not—you know I don't believe that stuff. I stopped going when I turned eighteen."

"You come with me every Christmas."

Juvia looked at Lucy with pleading eyes. Lucy looked back helplessly.

"That's Christmas, Mom! I come because I know it makes you happy."

"Well. If I knew it was such _torture_ for you…" her mother said stiffly.

"It's not torture. I don't mind going."

"But you try to get out of it whenever you can."

"Well, I don't believe there's a god," Juvia snapped. "So what do you expect?"

"Juvia!" her mother gasped. Juvia glowered.

Lucy knew from long acquaintance with Juvia that this drama from her mother was all for show. She was playing the game for Juvia's emotions. She nearly always won. Even when she didn't, Juvia came away with battle scars. Her heart was made up of more wounds than unscathed now.

Maybe Natsu was right.

She'd lost track of the conversation, but hearing Juvia's tone get more and more frustrated, Lucy drifted away, grabbing the kettle and making tea to give her hands something to do. Her cat Happy wandered in and curled around her legs as if in solidarity.

Suddenly there was the slam of plastic. Juvia stepped into the kitchen doorway, jaw set.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked fearfully, taking half a step forward.

"She hung up," Juvia growled. " _She_ called _me_ and then she _hung up_ …"

"Oh, love…" Lucy could see the brokenness in Juvia's angry eyes. She wrapped Juvia in a hug, not waiting for Juvia to ask, for the moment to flee. This was about comfort, about Juvia, whom Lucy cared about far more than her own confused emotions.

Despite the stiff ire in her body, Juvia molded against her.

After a few seconds, Juvia backed up a step and with surprising gentleness took Lucy's hands.

"Let's sit down," she said. "I feel exhausted."

They sat on the sofa, Lucy curling her legs under her and Juvia arranging herself with her legs in Lucy's lap. It was so intimate that Lucy distantly felt something akin to shock. Not that they didn't cuddle, because they did, but the timing.

Juvia hadn't volunteered to speak, so Lucy didn't either, touching Juvia's hand and caressing back and forth over the back of it. When she looked up to find Juvia's eyes, Juvia was staring off into the distance, brow slightly wrinkled.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I don't want to put up with this shit anymore. I want to _live,_ Lucy. I want to love myself, and I want to move ahead. Move past this. Prove them wrong."

Her stare was determined and beautiful.

"You aren't something to be cured," Lucy said.

Juvia blinked several times.

"You aren't a problem," Lucy went on. "You aren't a disease. You are perfect and radiant just as you are. You don't have to change—not for me, and not for anyone if you don't want to. And you shouldn't want to, because who you are—the way you feel—is a beautiful thing. Love is always a beautiful thing."

"Love," Juvia whispered, nodding.

Always, Lucy thought. Always worth the risk.

Lucy inhaled, loud in the silence. Light simmered inside her, fingers tingling. Juvia's head tilted, waiting for her curiously.

"M-May I kiss you?" Lucy said, voice thin and wispy.

Juvia met her gaze, all intensity. Lucy's fingers on the back of her hand had stopped moving, and now Juvia shifted, arm sliding under Lucy's hand as she leaned forward.

"Yes," she breathed.

It took Lucy a moment to move. Her hand moved first, caressing Juvia's arm and feeling the slight shiver under her skin. When Lucy leaned in, Juvia exhaled softly, and Lucy melted.

"Juvia," she murmured, touching her lips to hers.

The kiss was slow: firm and decisive and soaking it in. Lucy played her fingers up Juvia's neck, the skin soft and warm.

For so long Lucy had wanted to love someone. To pour her heart into someone, listen to them, live beside them, watch them enjoy the sunset, travel the world with them, learn their interests, make fools of themselves trying new things together.

And for a long time now, she'd wanted that person to be Juvia. Had wanted to love and dote on Juvia. It had nothing to do with Juvia hurting. Lucy simply wanted to.

The desire boiled in her soul and sought to escape. Seeking to be poured into this wonderful person whom she loved, to expend all her energy for Juvia's happiness, to express every thought and feeling inside her. She was anxious, too, but the anxiety was simply because this was so huge. To love your best friend. To want them to know it. Potentially change things forever.

Natsu was right. All timing was perfect timing.

This season was no different than any other in which Lucy cared for her and longed to take care of her. Because hard or easy, she would be here.

That was what mattered.

* * *

 **A/N:** My goal is to post every day of this month-long challenge, because I want to get over my fear of posting less-than-perfect updates. So here's a less-than-perfect update. ^^


	3. WLW - Hands (Jucana)

**A/N:** WLW #3. Prompt = hands + Jucana. **Explicit!**

It's me, did you really think it wouldn't be smut with a prompt like that? ^_~ Enjoy some present-tense first-person sexiness.

* * *

 **The Little Spoon**

Cana likes to be the big spoon.

I think about this as I hear the door open and Cana call softly, "Juvia."

I make a small sound, hearing Cana close the door and trundle back toward the bedroom. I'm curled on the bed, happy in my doze. A ting and a clunk announce her taking off belt and shoes, and the bed dips as she slides in behind me. A second later her knees crook up against mine and an arm slides loose about my waist.

"Hey, love," she whispers.

"Mm," I hum.

She readjusts and lets out a contented sigh.

"Work was long," she says. "I'm just gonna lie here with you."

"I'm good with that."

Her breath whispers across my ear and I hear her settle, feel that trickling calm. I close my eyes: the light is golden and the room just that perfect level of warm.

Cana's lips press against the back of my neck, just behind my ear, slowly and without demand. A finger combs against my scalp and plays with my curls, and I fall into a placid restfulness. I could lie here forever in her arms, feeling her breath, hearing her shift as she touches me gently and lovingly to let me know she's here.

As she kisses the nape of my neck, I smile.

"You're going to put me to sleep," I say.

"Then do," she murmurs. "Relax…"

Her breasts are against my back, her thighs soft and warm against mine. I melt into the bed. I am perfectly alive.

She finishes with my hair and her hand dips across my stomach, fingers against my warmth, sliding back and forth across the smooth rounds and ridges. I lean into it, tilting my head back. Those fingers on my belly go beneath my shirt and travel up and down. I can feel the graze of skin, the gooseflesh at her touch.

There's an excitement curling, hooking something deep inside me. The contented kind: I'm don't feel the need to do anything about it, basking in how her touch makes me feel.

The pleasure that slips through me like a quiet pool satisfies me.

Cana's hand slides up my abdomen, pushing my shirt up with it. Over my ribs, feeling across each one as she goes. The progress is so slow I can't breathe, breath sighing out of me with longing.

She reaches the bottom of my breast and slides along it, following the curved weight in a long, slow arc. I expect her to go higher, but the pad of her thumb simply follows that path, back and forth, back and forth along the edge of my breast.

The air is caught in my throat now. I'm afraid to move, to break this delicate moment. I want more, but if I move into the touch and admit my need, that will feel like I have to be active, like I must participate rather than simply enjoy her touch. But I know that this is okay—soaking in the sensations, wholly consumed by what my body feels as she loves me.

So I wait on her, moving down toward her hand as subtly as I can.

As she continues to pet my breast, there's a rustle. At first, I think she's shifting behind me. I don't realize what she's doing until a draft blows up my thighs and I feel my skirt scrunched up toward my hips.

I stopped wearing undergarments long ago, finding them annoying, and so I've felt the slick accumulating between my thighs for some time. But Cana gives a little groan when her hand fits between my legs and slides through the moistness.

Approaching slowly, she circles my labia with one finger, tempting and beautiful. She gives me enough time to decide if I don't want this, but I do, gods I so do. When her circling finger closes in on the entrance to my cunt, I let out a little whimper.

She slides in slow, and now my body is stiff, painfully tense as the pleasure and anticipation of that one finger captivates me. After feeling her way around, she thrusts in and pulls out, making a small shudder run through me.

She sets a steady, mesmerizing rhythm, in and out, in and out, probing my cunt and breathing through a moan, _"You're wet."_

Her words stutter, and I realize just how turned on she is—she's getting pleasure from this, from fucking me into the bed.

As she thrusts, her other fingers slide across me. They're not directly against my clit, but it's just what I need, that feathery pressure tantalizing me and satisfying me equally. Pretty soon she's got me wound around her finger—and then her other hand finally makes landing.

I'm so focused on the feeling inside me and the sensations between my legs that the ghost of fingertips fluttering up my breast takes me by surprise. They hit my nipple before I've recovered, brushing over what is suddenly a very hard, very stimulated point.

I give a strangled cry.

There's no pretending now: I'm sliding up and down to fuck myself on her finger, and I press my breast into her hand, sounds falling from me as she pinches and teases. Pleasure is devouring me. I hear Cana muttering her appreciation and desire, out of breath, desperate.

Her lips are on my shoulder, rounding the point and nudging me to roll over onto my back. I can't fully with the way she's thrusting into me from behind, but I oblige halfway, and that's good enough for her.

She shoves my shirt up roughly and leaves me bare. I let out an aching sound automatically. She pauses long enough to give me a pleased, hungry look. My eyes widen in reply: I'm small and subjected to her hands, desperate for her, a slave to her touch.

She grins. Cana loves that she can make me like this.

Then her mouth is on my breast, lips wet and hungry, sucking and suckling and giving a sharp nip right alongside my nipple. I'm jolting and shivering now; every heartbeat is a thud of exhilaration, and her hands and her mouth and her eyes are plunging me into the most delicious paradise.

As I cry and moan, she continues fucking me, breathing heavily against me, gaze proprietary every time she looks up from where she's sucking my nipple. I'm thrusting myself at her, all parts of me: I'm so naked and close and in need of her hands.

From where she crouches over me, she can do anything and everything to me. She adds a finger to my cunt and intensifies the pace, sliding me against the bed. My back arches and I no longer know which way is up, what's going on, where I am except in her hands and under her lips. None of it matters except for Cana lighting up my body.

With a cry, my cunt tenses around her fingers and I feel the spasm of orgasm run through me, dragging at my navel. Warmth washes over me, joyful tension settling into a sated contentment.

"Fuck," I say, panting. "That was amazing."

Cana's smile is emotional, and her voice comes out choked-up.

"Yeah." She stares down at me, giving my shoulder a light kiss. Sliding her fingers out of my cunt (the intimacy of that her touch down there gives me a thrill), she roles down beside me and takes up her previous position, although I'm on my back now and able to see her.

"I love you," she says. "A lot."

"I love you too," I whisper.

I take her hand, which she's wiped off on the bedclothes. There's still a level of enthusiasm in me: not so much sexually excited as overflowing with love and affection. I want to show her. I want to make her feel good. If she'll let me.

"Do you want to come, or do you want to nap?"

I have no doubt she's wet.

"Nap," she says, burrowing her nose into my neck.

"Okay." I grin. "Do you want to be the big spoon?"

Cana peeks at me from a few centimeters away.

"Yes."

Her timidity makes me laugh. Curling onto my side, I pull her against my back and feel her sigh happily, snuggling up to me.

We doze together in the golden afternoon.

* * *

 **A/N:** I really needed some gentle smut, and I feel like lady characters don't often get to enjoy sex because they're so busy giving it (I can talk about all the ways that's fucked up). I only did one editing pass on this, so please forgive typos.


	4. WLW - Cuddles (Yukinerva)

_When Minerva and Yukino are injured on a mission, Sting and Rogue can't get them to let go of each other to receive treatment._

 **A/N:** WLW #4. Prompt = cuddles + Yukinerva.

I was so blocked until I turned to one of my two favorite things: angst. Prepare to have it slathered on.

* * *

 **Cuddles**

There was so much blood.

In the half-light of dusk, it looked black. It all blended together, hers and Yukino's, so much of it.

Against her chest, Yukino started panting.

"Hold on, love," Minerva whispered, feeling her reserves of strength depleting as she spoke. She swore she could feel the life flowing out of her with every beat of her heart.

"Why," Yukino said in a weak voice.

"We got unlucky," Minerva said, making the words true with her determination. If she kept talking, things would be okay. "They got in a good hit…"

"I'm sorry."

"That's not what I meant." A shiver wracked her—already growing cold. Fuck. She had to hold on: had to protect Yukino. "I was arrogant and lazy, and they got me."

"Not…your fault," Yukino panted. "I protected you, and they got _me,_ and that's when…"

"Stop. I should be thanking you." Yukino stirred as if to protest, but Minerva hugged her closer. "Don't. Save your strength."

"M-Minerva." Yukino was starting to sound sleepy.

"What, love?"

"You're…gonna run out of magic power."

Minerva stared at the dark, swirling blue and rainbow lights around them. They looked the same, but she could feel them weakening, every assault outside breaking her body a little bit more.

"I can hold on."

"Let me help."

Looking down at Yukino, who lay against her with her head on Minerva's chest, Minerva smiled sadly. "Not much you can do."

"With my keys. I can…give you strength…"

"You're bleeding. Just rest. If they break through— I'll need you."

There was a silence.

"What's going to happen?"

"Someone will come for us," Minerva said, gritting her teeth as magic assaulted her barrier. Just had to hold on a few more hours. "We've been gone too long. They'll come."

"But how will they find us?"

Minerva swallowed.

"They just will."

* * *

It was the scent of blood that drew them. Sting was getting concerned at how long Minerva and Yukino had been gone on reconnaissance. This was supposed to be a group mission, and yeah, Minerva was independent, but even she wouldn't tackle this on her own. Yukino was with her and Yukino had self-control. No, something was wrong.

When they smelled the blood, he and Rogue broke into a run, knowing it could either be friends' or foes'; either way, it would give them a hint where the pair had gone.

The blood had leaked into the street by the time they got there. They saw the ball of Minerva's magic instantly, a glowing wall, but there were cracks in it, and blood trickled through some of the cracks in the bottom, a few dribbles on the cobbles.

That was plenty enough to smell.

Sting slammed into the first person he saw and Rogue caused some sort of crash behind them. The magical assault on the glowing orb stopped as he and his boyfriend took the brunt of force, but it was easy: he and Rogue were fresh and unhurt, and anger was fueling Sting now. How dare they hurt his guild. How dare they make his friends _bleed._

Rogue let out a high growl as he threw someone against a wall. He was just as angry.

When they'd dispatched their opponents, Sting ran over and pressed his fingers to the cracks in the barrier, calling, "Minerva, it's me. Let us in. The people are gone. Let us help you."

He'd hardly finished speaking when the magic dissipated, falling to the ground as if it just couldn't stand any longer.

There was Minerva, curled around Yukino in her lap, the dark-haired woman barely conscious and peering at them through bloodshot eyes. Yukino was bleeding from her head. Both were cut up and bruised. Sting gasped.

Rogue rushed forward, not letting shock wrap its arms around him, and tried to get a better look at Yukino's head.

"Mmm," Minerva groaned in protest, and Sting saw her fingers tighten around her girlfriend's arms.

"Please, Minerva," Rogue said. "You have to let me see."

"Protect," Minerva murmured.

"Yes, you protected her. You did a great job. Now let us help."

"Get help. Go…"

"We're going to take you to a hospital," Sting broke in. He knelt next to Rogue and tried to pry Minerva's arms away. "Neither of us can carry both of you. You need to let go."

"No," Minerva protested, and goddamn her grip was tight for someone about to pass out. She started crying. "Don't take her away."

"Actually," Rogue said, "I can carry them."

"You can?" Sting asked, then cottoned on. "Ah. Shadows."

"It'll be hard," Rogue said, surveying the two women, "but I can do it. I can bring you too if you hold onto me."

Sting nodded nervously. He wasn't fully comfortable inside Rogue's element; it felt claustrophobic. Too dark, not enough light.

"Okay," he said.

Rogue got his arms awkwardly around Yukino and Minerva, the latter still clutching her bundle. When Sting looped his arms around Rogue's waist, there was a second where he felt Rogue tense, and then a sensation of falling, and then everything was black.

Rogue moved them quickly, though Sting could feel the effort he expended carrying so many of them. Rogue's sides were heaving by the time they popped out in a hallway of the hospital. Sting sprang to his feet.

"Help!" he called, as confused medics ran over. "The women. They're both injured. They need help."

As people lifted the two onto beds, Rogue slowly got to his feet and wrapped an arm around Sting's waist, leaning on him. They could see now that Minerva had at last passed out, her grip on Yukino finally breakable by human hands. Side-by-side they were wheeled away.

* * *

Consciousness came back slowly.

Minerva was still gripping Yukino. She could feel the soft hand in hers, delicate and strong.

"Yukino," she whispered, feeling relief flood her body as she realized she was comfortable and not in pain. Someone had come for them in time. She vaguely remembered that. Mostly she just remembered holding Yukino's numb body in her arms and crying.

When she opened her eyes and looked around, there were many sights to take in. She hadn't been in hospitals much, and the room was more cheerful than she expected: clean and bright with a large window.

In the bed beside her, closer than she expected they'd let patients be, lay Yukino.

Whose eyes were still closed.

Minerva's heart fell even while she tried to remain upbeat. It didn't mean anything. Yukino had been hit on the head; she needed rest—

Someone came in, their steps hurried like they were concerned, and Minerva was distantly aware of someone asking her lie back, was she okay, her heart was racing, she needed to calm down and breathe…

"Is she," Minerva asked, and she started to cry, "okay?"

"Yes," the orderly said gently. "She has a concussion and needed a dozen stitches. There's a hairline fracture in her skull that needs time to heal."

That didn't sound 'fine' to Minerva.

"Why is she here?" she asked, sniffing as she let the man usher her back down into a prone position. Her head felt dizzy.

"Don't you want her here?"

"Why isn't she in some sort of special care? If her head is broken, she needs monitoring and attention. She needs…"

"They couldn't get you two to let go."

She finally looked up at him. "What?"

"After they'd finished stitching her up, you were yelling for her, so they let you see her, and you grabbed her hand and threatened anyone who tried to break you apart. So we had to find a space where you could be together."

"Oh." Minerva flushed. She definitely didn't remember that. "You were there?"

"Everyone heard about it. You were quite loud."

Great.

"So she's okay to be here?" she asked, trying to sound austere, but it was hard to when there was still a wet trail down her cheek and she wanted nothing more than to snuggle her girlfriend and sleep.

"Yes." He pulled up the blanket she'd kicked off. "Do you need anything?"

"No. Thank you."

"Please rest." He left the room.

Minerva slept off and on the rest of the morning, her magic renewing and with it her strength. By afternoon she was awake enough to keep her eyes open for more than fifteen minutes.

Restless, she looked between her cot and Yukino's. Yukino hadn't twitched, but her chest rose and fell regularly and the meters and gauges alongside her bed looked healthy. Testing the tubes in her arm, Minerva made sure she had wiggle room and shifted herself over the gap and into Yukino's cot.

With that warm body against her, she eased herself down and relaxed at last.

She cradled Yukino to her breast, careful not to move her head. There was a long line of ugly stitches and part of Yukino's hair was shaved away. Looking at it made Minerva ache; it made her feel squeamish, which blood never did; and at the same time she couldn't help smiling at how beautiful Yukino was even like this.

She was so strong, the muscles in her bare arms corded and efficient. There was a scar along Yukino's neck, old and faded, which few people knew about but Minerva, and she could see it now, running her fingers along the outline of sensitive skin.

"Hello, my love," she murmured, putting her head on the pillow and gazing at her girlfriend's still face. "I'm glad you're still with me."

As she rubbed Yukino's hand, Minerva drifted off in thought, staring out the window at the wide sky. She wondered if Sting and Rogue had finished the mission or not. If they had, they would've needed help. The bastards were even stronger than the four of them had prepared for.

Minerva had been taken by surprise. She regretted that so much—couldn't help bearing the blame on her soul. When she wasn't able to block a retaliatory explosion, Yukino had stepped in front of the hit for her, and this was the result. A fractured skull and bruised brain.

"All because you protected me, darling," she whispered. "You shouldn't have."

* * *

She didn't know how much time passed before Yukino's eyes fluttered.

"Oh." Minerva jolted and a slow smile moved across her face like syrup. "Love."

Yukino made an indistinct grunt.

"You're okay," Minerva whispered, tightening her embrace. "I've got you."

"Mm," Yukino hummed, but there was more conscious meaning to the sound this time.

A blue eye opened tentatively.

"My head…" Yukino made a face and whimpered. "It hurts."

"You fractured your skull. You'll be okay, but you have to rest."

"And you?"

"I'm fine," Minerva said, smiling and gently brushing through her hair. "Just magic exhaustion."

"Your stomach…"

"They sewed me up. Same as your head. Our gaping holes are not gaping anymore."

Despite her light tone, she watched Yukino's expressions intently. Wanted to gauge if she really were okay, if Minerva needed to yell for someone.

"Glad you're okay," Yukino said wearily, burrowing closer—without, Minerva noticed, moving her head.

Yukino's words processed.

"I'm glad _you're_ okay. You…took an explosion to the head."

"I'll always protect you," Yukino murmured. "Always."

Minerva squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed against the wave of emotion that rushed through her throat.

"I don't deserve it."

Yukino's eyes flashed open.

"Yes, you do. You so do. I love you. I will always do what I can for you, because that's what love is. You don't have to earn it. I just choose to."

Minerva wiped her eyes, but tears kept coming. She sniffed.

"But _why?_ " she whispered.

"Because I like who you are," Yukino whispered back. "Come here, love."

Minerva folded against her, face against Yukino's shoulder, trying to keep her chest from shaking. Yukino petted her arm. Even that touch felt so undeserved.

"What do you…how can I help you right now?" Minerva asked when her breath had calmed down. "Tell me what I can do for you."

"Stay with me," Yukino said. "Right here. Stay close."

Minerva wrapped both arms around her and pressed their bodies together, fused at the hip, breaths mingling.

"Always," she said.


	5. WLW - Flirt (Canajane)

Cana needs cheering up, and Mirajane knows just how to do it.

 **A/N:** WLW week #5. Prompt = flirt + Canajane.

Doesn't quite follow canon. I gave it a fun twist. ^_~

* * *

 **Flirt**

The S-class trials had been announced last week, and as Mira expected, Cana wore her usual dour expression. She'd been chosen, a fourth time. Mira was excited for her. While Cana looked…like she wanted to sink into the floor.

Cana kept biting her lip. She stared at her drink as she did so—stared at it, instead of drinking it. As Mira watched, Cana huffed a sigh and went back to chewing her lip.

She wouldn't call Cana her girlfriend, but they were close. There was something there, and they both knew it, and they'd both acknowledged it, they just hadn't given it a name. They didn't flaunt it in public, but they didn't hide it.

So Mira put her hands on her hips, marched over, and said, "If you bite your lip one more time, I'm going to do it for you."

Cana inhaled as if coming to herself, blinked, and gave her head a shake.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Gonna make myself bleed, aren't I?"

Mira couldn't believe Cana hadn't responded to the hint.

"Something will," she growled, getting a small, confused frown, but nothing more.

 _Just what is going on with you_ —is what Mira wanted to ask, but she'd never asked before; they hadn't been this close last year, though she'd always noted the way Cana withdrew prior to the exams. Everyone noticed. Just the other day she'd found Gray and Laxus at the bar talking in low voices and glancing Cana's direction. Usually the two fought (something about Laxus being a dragon and Gray being a dragon's mate, apparently; all Mira knew was that it had to do with smells and was an excuse to start a brawl), but they'd actually been worried. Together.

Mira knew what would loosen Cana up and potentially get her to stop biting her lip so hard. Fetching a drink, she came over and leaned against the counter across from her.

"What's going on, my dear? You seem upset."

Cana looked up from her renewed reverie and stared for a long time at the drink Mira set in front of her.

"Drink up," Mira said, tapping Cana's glass with her own and tossing it back.

Cana wore a half-smile as she did the same, swallowing and saying with reverence, "Goddess, that's good stuff."

"I thought you might say that," Mira winked. "I know you're not usually a vodka fan, but this is the best of the best. My personal favorite of all the hard liquors we have."

"Damn," Cana nodded agreement.

"So what's going on?"

Cana sighed, merely nibbling her lip this time.

"It's just the S-class trials. Nerves or whatever. That's all."

"What are you nervous about?"

"All of it." Cana laughed shakily.

"You're a strong mage, Cana. You were selected for a reason."

"It's just…I need to be victorious this year."

"Why— Oi, Cana, what did I say about biting your lip?"

"Huh?" Cana blinked at her.

"I told you," Mira leaned in close and lowered her voice, "that if you did that one more time, I'd have to bite it for you."

Cana colored a gorgeous shade of red.

"I…am…not opposed," she eked out.

Heat filled Mira's chest.

"Well then," she said, raising a mischievous brow, "why don't—"

All Mira was aware of was impact.

She was tumbling, it smashed her, hard things against her face, something painful digging into her arm, she rammed into something—

"Sorry," Gray said, perfunctory, standing and wiping his chin. Mira peered up from the floor, bleery as he turned back to glare across the bar. "Is that the best you can do, you flaming idiot?"

Natsu's hair lit on fire at the words. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me." Gray vaulted over the bar and swaggered toward his boyfriend. "I told you, I'm going to be S-class this year, and your pathetic punches can't stop me."

Mira picked herself up, somewhat dizzy and out of it.

Natsu got a dangerous grin that made her scared for the integrity of the guildhall. Goddamn those two. She rubbed her head.

"Let me show you exactly which fists are going to beat you," Natsu taunted. "Just 'coz you're my boyfriend doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."

"Hah! Same to you!"

They launched at each other and things started exploding.

"Mira," Cana asked in concern, and Mira discovered Cana had come behind the bar and was standing at her side, hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Just…knocked a little loose," she laughed, "but yes, I think…"

"I don't know if you're in any condition to follow through on that threat," Cana said, ushering her to lean back against the bar.

Dizzy she might be, but Mira still understood that statement enough to protest. "That's not—" she began, but suddenly something was in her face again, hair brushing her cheek, lips working softly over hers.

"Oh," she groaned, letting Cana pull her lip between her teeth and nip at it, tongue invading Mira's mouth. Oh god.

"You can't, so I can," Cana panted, diving in again for another passionate clash of tongues and mouths.

Mira's brain was falling into happy disarray, thoughts focused solely on the way Cana's lips moved against her own. Cana drew Mira's tongue into her mouth and sucked on her, Mira's knees going weak.

"Uhm, what?" came a rumble nearby.

They broke apart—regretfully—and stared at the two people who had come in the back door. Laxus and Freed were staring at the chaos of the guildhall looking surprised.

"Here I thought they'd all be doing missions and training," Laxus said. "Not wrecking the hall again."

Mira knew what was coming: Laxus, for all his gentleness and tolerance, broke up fights that threatened too much property damage. But it was Freed who strode forward, face set, and drew his sword.

"Stop," he commanded, runes flying and throwing Natsu and Gray apart from each other.

"You want to join?" Gray shouted angrily.

"Not in the slightest. You are annoying."

"You aren't getting S-class, Freed," Natsu called, and launched at the rune mage.

More magic filled the air, barriers and fire and, of course, sprays of ice. Mira sighed.

"Nice day for making out," Laxus said, leaning on the bar next to her and Cana and grinning.

"Wh-What?" Mira stammered.

"That's some way to prepare for the trials, Cana," he went on. "Hoping to get the experience directly from her lips?"

"Oi!" Cana exclaimed, punching his arm—then the pair of them burst out laughing.

"Glad you're feeling better," he said.

Cana smiled and looked over at Mira with adoration in her eyes. "Yeah."


	6. WLW - Protect (Lucana)

_While flirting in the kitchen, Cana accidentally causes disaster and Lucy gets hurt. (Fic #6 for When We Take Different Paths WLW week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = protect + Lucana. Based on a true experience, though I didn't get injured quite as badly.

* * *

 **Protect**

"That smells amazing," Lucy sighed, coming into the kitchen.

Cana grinned at her from the stove and poked her with the handle of a spoon.

"Fesenjan the way my mom taught me. You're getting a taste of my heritage tonight."

"Sounds good to me." Lucy cuddled her girlfriend's back and kissed her neck, swaying to the strains of Dean Martin on Cana's phone. "Is that traditional Persian music?"

"Ha ha." Cana stuck her tongue out, then laughed for real. "For your information, I am claiming Deano in the name of all that is good and holy in the motherland. He's ours now. Go get your own."

Lucy giggled and kissed her again, groping Cana's side as her lips slid up toward her ear. Closing her eyes, Cana leaned back into the embrace while Lucy nipped at her ear, and—

Cana accidentally knocked over the cooking oil. It clattered across the counter, spilling everywhere.

The stove went up in flames.

"Cana!" Lucy screamed. She jerked Cana back, Cana already shoving away from the burning surface and tripping both of them.

A drip of oil ran down the front of the oven, and with it ran the flames.

"Shit!" Lucy shouted. Cana had tumbled down onto her ass and was sitting on the floor staring at the fire with the jerky, indecisive movements of someone who didn't know what to do. She backed into the cabinets. But the fire was coming toward her. It had all happened in seconds and there wasn't time to react. In the next instant, Cana would be burned—

Lucy reached through the flames and twisted the stove knob to off.

She let out a cry as she did it, the fire even hotter than she'd expected, but the flames died a few moments later and they were left with thick smoke and eerie silence.

"Gods," Lucy groaned, slumping back. Cana shot to her feet.

"What the hell did you do?" Cana exclaimed in fearful concern, taking her elbow and peering at her blistered hand. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Fuck, it smells," Lucy said, calmer but still tense. She scrunched her nose. "Not me, I mean the air."

The scent of burned plastic issued from where the head had pocked the front of the microwave.

"We probably shouldn't stay in here," Cana said, ushering them across the living room and out the front door.

"I don't know why the smoke alarm didn't go off. That's worrying— Fuck!" Lucy interrupted herself and grabbed her upper arm, burned hand tensing like a claw. "Geezes it hurts. Oh god…"

Cana already had her phone out.

"I'm calling Natsu."

"Mm…" Lucy breathed shallow and careful, trying to rein in her body.

Cana stood at attention holding the phone to her ear, but a moment later she swore. "He's not picking up. Gonna try my brother—"

"I'll be okay," Lucy said, without much belief.

"Gray knows some medical stuff; he'll know what to do for it at least. I think we should take you to urgent care… Hey, Gray? Oh, thank the goddess I got a hold of you…"

* * *

The little beat-up Honda pulled into their lot not ten minutes later and Cana sprang forward, awash in relief when she saw Natsu in the car too.

"Thank god," she said, pulling Gray into a hug and clutching him tight. She turned to Natsu, who was carrying a medical kit and wore an expression between worry and professional attention. "She's blistered pretty bad. It's gotten worse in the few minutes since I called you. It was an oil fire, if that makes a difference."

"Damn. Where is she?"

Cana led the way into the flat and to their bathroom, where Lucy sat on the edge of the tub panting.

"Hey, Lucy," Natsu said, kneeling next to her. "I'm so sorry. Can I see?"

She held out her arm without speaking, tears on her cheeks.

"It hurts a lot, huh?" he asked conversationally as he inspected it.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Damn," Gray said in a low voice, standing behind Cana in the doorway.

"I'm so glad we have a paramedic in the family," Cana sighed, leaning back against him. "Thanks for lending him to us."

Gray laughed softly, but it was brief. "What happened?"

"It was stupid." Cana closed her eyes. "I was cooking and knocked over some oil. The fire went everywhere. I froze, freaking out and not sure what to do, and Lucy reached over and turned the stove off. Stopped the flat from burning down."

"The fire was coming at Cana," Lucy said from the tub, sounding sick and hissing whenever Natsu touched her. "It was moving pretty fast—the oil sprayed everywhere…"

"Oil fires are bad," Natsu said, applying something to Lucy's arm. "I'm glad you called me. Cana, do you have any ice? It'll help the pain and swelling."

Cana went to the freezer in a daze and grabbed an icepack, staring at the burned kitchen.

"Holy shit. That was a big fire," Gray said. He took the ice pack from her numb hands. "Why don't you sit down?"

She followed his pointing finger and landed on the sofa with a _whump._

A minute later he joined her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Unscathed." She fiddled with her cuticles. "She protected me."

"Yep." He smiled softly.

"No, I mean deliberately. Fuck." She stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep her tears from falling. "If I hadn't been so clumsy…"

"Hey, hey, you couldn't have predicted that."

Gray pulled her into a hug and Cana curled into him, feeling like little kids again, when they curled up together under the same blanket and whispered stories to each other instead of taking their nap. He rubbed her back in long, slow movements, stroking the tension from her shoulders.

"She loves you very much," he said, kissing her forehead. "I do too. I'm really glad you're okay. And Lucy is going to be okay too. Thankfully it's her left hand, and Natsu is really good at his job."

"I just keep thinking, if I hadn't knocked it over…like I can go back and change that tiny thing, and we wouldn't be here."

"Well, we are here. You are not at fault: it might have easily been Lucy or me or someone else who froze, and you got burned… I don't think Lucy would change what she did—it was probably a knee-jerk reaction to seeing her loved on in danger. You're just going to have to accept that she loves you."

Cana laughed wetly, which she knew had been his intention.

"Thanks."

"Out of curiosity, what were you making for dinner?"

"Fesenjan. Lucy's never had it."

"Mom's recipe?" he asked, smiling. "God, that makes me hungry. Where's Lucy's favorite takeout place? You and I can go get dinner while Natsu patches her up."

Cana nodded, feeling better with something to do. She could be a protector, too.

"Sergio's. It's just down the street."


	7. WLW - Stubborn (Chendy)

_Fighting with her doctor about her breast cancer treatment exhausts Wendy. She finds consolation in the rhythm of Chelia's body against hers. (Fic #7 for When We Take Different Paths WLW week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = stubborn + Chendy. Modern AU, characters in their 50s.

I am a few days behind, sorry xoxo.

* * *

 **Stubborn**

"For the last time, this is what I want."

Wendy's voice was quiet and firm, though irritation was starting to show. The doctor stared at her in consternation, her brow quirked as if she just couldn't understand.

"I don't need them," Wendy went on. "Why would I? My wife certainly doesn't care. I'm not crazy, and please don't tell me again that I need to see a therapist to make sure my head is okay. I'm alright with the flat chest. You think my self-worth is based on my boobs? My health is what matters to me, not patriarchal standards of beauty."

The woman sighed.

Chelia squeezed Wendy's shoulder. They'd been having this conversation with the doctors for a week now. Every time, Wendy's answer was the same, and every time, the doctors tried to persuade her otherwise.

"Very well," the doctor said, nodding her head. "It's clear you've thought a lot about this. And you can always change your mind at a later date."

"Right," Wendy said, a heavy layer of skepticism in her voice.

Chelia was used to her wife being the calm, gentle one: kind to everyone and careful in her words. But she understood completely why Wendy was more frustrated and edgy these days. Her body had been practically destroyed fighting the cancer, she was tired and achey and in pain, and people insisted on arguing with her about what she wanted.

All because, as Wendy had tried to point out to the woman, she was a woman and not a man.

'The curse of the cunt' they'd started calling it. It had turned into a joke. How even with this, breast cancer, a struggle that was so female, it was men whose opinions were garnered about how women's bodies ought to be treated. Commodified, told that the doctors could 'help' them to 'be normal' again—where normal meant beautiful to the male gaze.

"So that leaves our treatment at…"

While Wendy and the doctor got down to the actually important bits, Chelia fished around for her notebook. She was Wendy's note-taker at these appointments. She was whatever Wendy needed. It was the least she could do.

* * *

"Fuck this shit," Wendy growled as they walked in the door.

She never swore, and Chelia glanced over at her in consideration.

"Is there something particular you feel like right now?" she asked carefully.

"Sex," Wendy said, before she could stop herself.

Chelia had moved toward her, eyes sparking, when Wendy raised a hand.

"Sorry, I don't…never mind. I'm too tired."

"Are you sure?" Chelia raised a seductive eyebrow. "I have some creative ideas if you just want to lie there."

"I'm not a pillow princess," Wendy said, scornful. Inhaling, she reined in her tone. "Sorry. Thank you, love, but I won't make you do that."

"Who said anything about making?"

Chelia stepped up to her and ran her arms down Wendy's arms, making her shiver despite her denials.

"Do you want to try? If you find you don't enjoy it, we can stop…"

Wendy bit her lip. She didn't have the energy to do anything for her wife—even thinking about scissoring, which had always been her favorite thing, exhausted her. And yet her body craved touch. She wanted release.

"Are you sure?" she murmured, succumbing to Chelia's gentle touch on her shoulders, fingers sliding up Wendy's neck.

"Yes," Chelia said.

"Okay."

Chelia kissed the side of her throat, ghosting down until she could suck sensually on Wendy's collarbone. Wendy was taut, didn't know how to relax, but Chelia just kept going and soon she was sucking a bruise into Wendy's skin and Wendy was making soft sounds as the touch overwhelmed her.

"Come to bed with me," Chelia whispered, and led her down the hall.

Chelia insisted on Wendy lying down while she undressed her—unbuttoning her overshirt, then working more carefully as she removed Wendy's tanktop. Wendy still wasn't used to the way her chest felt: simultaneously normal and not; in pain and sensitive but also…not there.

She let those thoughts flow over her and out again. For now, Chelia was moving over her body enjoying her, making sounds of appreciation as she laid gentle kisses down Wendy's skin. She kissed down her sternum and her stomach, and then nipped at Wendy's side while her thumbs slid over Wendy's hipbones.

Wendy arched a little, moaning, letting Chelia remove her trousers, but Chelia made no move to do so. Instead, she straightened up and took off her own shirt, stripping her top quickly and leaning back down over her.

In that warm space between their bare skin, Wendy felt connection and desire. She found herself panting, wanting to place their skin flush against each other, but too sore to move up in Chelia's embrace. This frustrated her for a moment, but Chelia kissed her, tugging Wendy's lip with her teeth, and Wendy made a growly noise and kissed her harder.

One of Chelia's legs came between her thighs and nudged them open, spreading her wide. They both still wore their trousers, and when Chelia slotted them together, it took an increase of pressure before Wendy began to feel the sensations she was desperate for.

"Ahhh, fuck, I love you," Chelia groaned, arms shaking on either of Wendy's head.

Wendy stared at her, hair in her face, breasts hanging, muscles tight, and she found she wasn't jealous. Chelia was beautiful, healthy, and she delighted in that. Chelia was the unbroken part of her.

Closing her eyes, Wendy felt Chelia bear down, her thigh tight between Wendy's legs while her own clit pressed against Wendy's leg.

Wendy tried to join in her thrusting but quickly found it was too much for her. But that was alright, because Chelia's thrusts grew into hard strokes, the cloth between them making it so that she could be—had to be—rough.

The roughness ground against the glorious places of Wendy's body, the feelings that made her feel like herself, quite apart from how she looked or how strong she was. With her eyes shut, she could experience her body without having to think about others' judgments or perceptions.

And Chelia didn't judge it. Chelia experienced Wendy's body and loved it like she did.

"Oh gods," Chelia gasped, little moans escaping now with every hard move.

Her thighs clenched around Wendy's leg. Though Wendy would normally have taken this opportunity to press her thigh harder against her wife's clit, today she let Chelia do it, a warm smile breaking over her face as she felt Chelia's legs clamping impossibly hard, then jolting against her, then undulating in heavy strokes that slowly tapered off.

But Chelia didn't leave her perch, keeping pressed against Wendy as she continued to move, harder now, grinning when Wendy kept gasping, "Chelia—mmm, fuck, darling, yes…"

When she came, it was in great gasps, body shuddering, sound groaning out of her as if the pain were leaving her physically, to be replaced with contentment. Chelia's arms wrapped around her and held her close, rocking her through it. Wendy didn't notice she was crying until Chelia wiped her cheek.

"How was that, darling?" she asked.

"Yes," Wendy gasped, crying harder. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Mm, you're welcome," Chelia hummed. "I have the best orgasms with you."

Wendy laughed weakly. "Even when I'm a limp noodle?"

"You weren't a limp noodle. You were actually a tense, hot lady who I thoroughly enjoyed having beneath me." Chelia nuzzled her, sliding up cloesr, their bare skin pressed together, legs tangling. "Thank you for letting me fuck you. That was…it was really hot. I really wanted to do that. I know it wasn't easy."

"It was incredibly easy," Wendy laughed, even though she knew what Chelia meant. "I didn't have to do anything and I got to feel amazing. You are really good at all of that, you know. You play my instrument so well."

"I've had a lot of years of practice," Chelia said with a grin.

Wendy let out a long exhale, letting her body sink back into the bed.

"Chelia," she said, more quietly. "I hope we can still make love like that even years from now…even when we're senile and silly."

"I hope so too," Chelia whispered back. "I'd certainly like to try. Whenever you're up for it."

"Whenever _you're_ up for it."

"I actually…really like being in control?" Chelia's voice tapered off on a high note, skin reddening. "So that was a treat for me. Getting to do that to you. With you. For you. I mean, we can figure out a balance, and if it makes you uncomfortable, or you want control sometimes, or whatnot…we'll figure it out and negotiate. But I'm just saying you should never feel guilty or like you're 'making me do all the work.' That's not how it feels to me at all."

"Oh."

In the wake of happiness, Wendy found she could accept that wholly. Her heart opened up to it and allowed it to sink in.

"You're a marvel," she said, brushing her knuckles over Chelia's face.

"I'm a Blendy-Marvel," Chelia teased.

"Haha." Wendy hugged her. "Do you want to eat ice cream and watch Netflix?"

" 'Netflix and chill'?"

Wendy laughed. "Maybe again in a bit? I need a breather first."

"Of course. I don't want to over-orgasm you."


	8. MLM - Scars (Doranhar)

_Lahar asks Doranbolt about his scars. (Fic #1 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = scars + Doranhar.

* * *

 **Scars**

Lahar suddenly looked up across the desk.

The quick move was startling enough that Doranbolt looked up from what he was doing and met Lahar's eyes. There was a special glint behind those glasses, a small almost-smile drawing up his mouth.

Doranbolt asked, "What?"

"Where," Lahar asked slowly, "did you get that?"

Doranbolt opened his mouth to ask what on earth he was talking about, but Lahar reached out, another shocking gesture from the man who was always so self-contained, and brushed his fingertips against Doranbolt's cheek.

Oh.

"Long time ago," Doranbolt said heavily.

"Where?"

Doranbolt was irked, and glared accordingly. But perhaps because Lahar interrogated people all day, he was immune to such hints.

"At home," Doranbolt said, returning his eyes to his report. "Mom dropped a bucket of lye and I leapt out of the way to avoid getting burnt, and tripped into a plow instead."

Lahar gaped.

"A plow?"

"Yes." Doranbolt scratched his head with his pen nib (unaware this left a trail of ink on his forehead that Lahar observed fondly). "I grew up on a farm. Remember? Out in the middle of nowhere. We were in the barn, Mom was going to clean the floors…hence the lye."

"It sounds dangerous."

"It is. Raw lye can burn your skin off. You can die from the burns if you're immersed. This," he waved a hand at his face, "is a cheap price to pay for having my life."

When he focused on the words on the paper in front of him, Doranbolt took the silence as Lahar cottoning on. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Lahar cupped his cheek.

"Wh-What?" he demanded again, more shakily than he wanted.

"You don't have to say it's a small price," Lahar said.

"Well, it is. I should be grateful."

"But it's okay if you're not," Lahar said. "It's okay to be angry."

"I almost lost my fucking eye," Doranbolt growled, pulling away from Lahar's touch and shoving the report away from himself. He wouldn't get any work done at this point; he was too riled. "I'm lucky."

"You're beautiful."

Doranbolt nearly toppled out of his chair.

"What?"

"You heard me." Lahar's lips spread in a smile. "You're lovely."

Doranbolt snorted and stared down at the bare wooden surface of his desk. Lahar's papers littered half of it, the pair of them working together in comfortable silence, since they'd long ago found each other perfect companions for this kind of work.

"I don't know how you…well, whatever. Thank you, I guess."

"You're welcome."

It took several long breaths before Doranbolt could lift his head, but when he did, he found that Lahar had bent back over his files. As if Doranbolt weren't shaken up from a few touches and a casually-flung compliment.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, standing. After a second's hesitation, he made an abrupt break for the door. He rushed past Lahar's chair, murmuring, "Fresh air."

"I'll come with you."

Just as speedy, Lahar rose and slid on his coat, following Doranbolt into the corridor. He didn't button it up, pushing his hands in his pockets and yawning, turtleneck visible. He was being so casual today, so unlike all the little tics people knew Lahar for (and made fun of in some circles): it was unnerving.

They took a side exit, Doranbolt holding the door. He blushed when Lahar gave him a little bow.

Once outside, Doranbolt remembered why he almost never took walks around here: the city of Era was plain, arid, and industrialized.

"C'mon," he said, "I know a better spot."

And, putting a hand on Lahar's shoulder, he moved them.

They reappeared in a lane of apple trees.

"Where are we?" Lahar asked.

"An large orchard some kilometers north. I come here to wander."

Lahar gave a thoughtful smile.

They trod between the lanes of rough bark in silence, Doranbolt clasping his hands behind his back. He could breathe deeply here, get a grip on his mind and feel centered.

"May I ask a question?" Lahar asked.

"Sure."

"Why are you angry about it?"

"My face?" Doranbolt inhaled through tight lips. "It's the first thing people look at."

"Sorry," Lahar muttered. "I'm sure I gawked too."

"It's okay." Doranbolt chuckled, then teased, "Not like I had much career potential in beauty."

Lahar smiled at the path.

Doranbolt still had his hands clasped behind his back, and he saw when Lahar retracted his hand from his pocket and reached for him. Some small thing inside Doranbolt gulped and froze up awaiting that touch, while the forward part of his brain was confused what Lahar was doing—but then fingers slid into his own, drawing his hand to his side, Lahar intertwining their fingers.

Lahar was still smiling.

"I thought you were handsome the first time I saw you," he admitted. "You had this rugged look. Everyone else comes into our division young and headstrong…but you were thoughtful, brave but not stupid, someone on my level. An equal. And you had this dashing scar as if to show off that you'd survived battles, and didn't care what anyone thought of you. I…I liked you right away."

Doranbolt was grinning now too, squeezing Lahar's fingers. Their bond communicated through their hands, bumping against each other's legs, fingers finding the comfortable spot between the other's knuckles. Lahar was not wearing gloves for once, and Doranbolt found himself supremely glad. He could feel Lahar's clammy palm, could draw his thumb over Lahar's hand and hear his breath catch as if a laugh or something even more incredible were about to burst out of him.

"Do you have any scars?" Doranbolt asked.

"Not anywhere people can see," Lahar said, then blushed, and an awkward silence fell over them. "I…have a scar here—" he gestured below his collarbone, "—from an incident with a practice sword a long time ago: not bad. I have a worse one low on my abdomen. Someone tried to gut me."

"What?!"

"It's alright; it wasn't too terrible," Lahar assured him. "Just needed a dozen stitches. I'd show you, but." He gestured around at the public space they occupied.

"I'd still like to see later," Doranbolt said before he could stop himself.

Lahar looked over at him, eyes hopeful, his defenses down. "Okay."

Doranbolt pulled them to a stop and reached out to touch the place on the right side of Lahar's chest where the one scar hid. As his fingers touched warm cloth, Lahar's breathing stalled, and it fascinated him, made him wonder what Lahar would do if he slid his hand down, along his stomach through the open line of his jacket. He stopped at Lahar's hip, feeling his muscles expand and contract with rapid inhales.

Lahar placed his free hand on Doranbolt's chest, eyes not quite meeting his. His gaze was lower, watching Doranbolt's mouth.

The hand on Doranbolt's chest sparked excitement inside him. He wanted to know what would happen if he leaned in. Whether Lahar would avoid him, or freeze, or come in to meet him. How close he would let Doranbolt get.

The answer was: very close.

Doranbolt tilted his head slightly on instinct, watching Lahar's eyes, which finally flicked up to meet his. Staring at him, Lahar very deliberately tilted his head the opposite way and crossed all but the last centimeter of space between them.

So Doranbolt kissed him. He could smell aftershave, feel the slight prickle stubble beneath his lips. The soft dart of a tongue against his lip had him jolting in surprise, wound so tight with desire, but Lahar was holding him now, other hand wrapped around Doranbolt's waist, and Doranbolt let that anchor his heart, pressing in and sliding his tongue into Lahar's mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, hearing him make a small moan.

At that, they broke apart, both panting and wide-eyed.

"I'm—sorry," were the first startled words out of Lahar's mouth, and Doranbolt was so anxious that Lahar not put his defenses back up that he growled and stole in for another kiss. This time his thumb circled Lahar's hip sensually, other hand hooking in his belt. After a minute of Lahar's lips pulling on his, Doranbolt reached up and pulled the pin from Lahar's hair, letting it fall, running his fingers through it and giving it a slight pull, which elicited another groan. When Lahar pulled away, it was with a bit more force.

"Wait," Lahar laughed, "not here. I'm going to…not here."

"Okay."

They stepped away from each other, both brushing themselves off. Lahar made no move to put his hair back up, shaking it out so it fell about his shoulders. Doranbolt liked him this way; just a little less put-together—a little more human and natural. It made Doranbolt feel like he could be vulnerable, like he was safe.

"Want to come over to my place tonight?" he asked. "We can make dinner and get away from those reports. I doubt I'll finish by this evening."

"Me neither. Yes, let's." Lahar smiled at him, a special, happy smile, and they turned back they way they had come.

"I just remembered we can't walk back," Lahar laughed.

"We can at least part of the way," Doranbolt said. "It's prettier than Era."

Lahar looked over at him, eyes following the lines of his face. "It certainly is."

* * *

 **A/N:** This is my favorite rarepair.

My fic for the 10th is ready, but the 9th (Gratsu fluff) is still half-baked. Soon!


	9. MLM - I Don't Care (Gratsu)

_Gray is worried whether Natsu still wants him with the demonic marks that now crawl over his skin._ _(Fic #2 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = I don't care what others think + Gratsu.

This fkn fic kept me from posting all the other ones for this week lol, but now it's finally ready and I can post EVERYTHING.

* * *

 **I Don't Care**

Natsu ran his fingers down the marbled black marks on Gray's arm. It was eerie, striations of hot and cold; but what was weirdest of all was that the dark marks were warm, and Gray's skin was cold.

He should've known: the man wore no clothes and spent all of his time surrounded by snow and ice.

"They're…different," Gray said, watching Natsu's hand travel back up his arm to his shoulder, then down his chest. Gray inhaled stiffly.

"I like them."

When Gray looked up, one of his eyes was shot through with red.

It probably should've scared Natsu, but he found it arousing. Which wasn't helpful when he was already touching Gray's skin.

"You really—" Gray stopped.

Natsu replied by kissing him.

Gray's palm cupped the back of his neck, holding him in place, their noses colliding. This elicited a small laugh from Gray, and that, _that_ was why Natsu wasn't concerned. This was still the same Gray he'd always known. Nothing would change that.

But the laugh quickly turned to moodiness—which was also a Gray trait—and he leaned back in to continue kissing.

Natsu wasn't opposed—he quite liked Gray's kisses, honest and harsh—but this was avoidance and he knew that. Framing Gray's cheeks, he pulled away, startled to find sadness in Gray's expression.

"I'm sorry," Gray said. "That I'm…you know. Like this."

Natsu growled automatically. That gave him an idea.

"Should I apologize for my magic too, then?" he asked. "If you have to apologize for being part demon, then I have to apologize for being part dragon, right? Because being anything less than one-hundred-percent human is sub-par? This is new to me. It's probably the draconic part of me. I didn't know that non-full-humans weren't the ideal. I mean, I fell for you, after all. And nobody else would _ever_ fall for you, clearly. Nobody would cry raindrops every time you leave town or anything."

Gray snorted. "Please don't bring her into this."

"I'm just saying."

"Yes, alright. But still: you're _supposed_ to be dragon-esque like that."

"Didn't you want your dad's magic? I sure as hell wanted mine. That's what this is, you know."

Gray looked contemplative for a moment.

"I never thought about that," he murmured. "And yes, I wanted it. But—stop interrupting—this isn't my father's magic. This is a curse."

"Okay, _that's_ dramatic," Natsu said.

"No, it's the truth. This is—whatever it was called. The memory of death. It's inside me now. It fused with the demonic bits." Gray shrugged. "As far as Porlyusica knows, and she's pretty damn knowledgeable, it's never coming out."

Gray suddenly took hold of his arms.

"Natsu, are you okay?"

Natsu stared at him wide-eyed. "Huh?"

"You're breathing really fast."

"It's just…"

The memory of death.

Natsu could feel it under his skin. The wary sense of danger that was eclipsed by nothing at all: a cessation of being, death and life having no meaning and nothing existing anymore, his body being a memory he could hardly clutch onto—

And then breathing again, and staring at Gray, covered in the strange marks like black scars. And there was Gray falling over, heart thudding so solemnly, and rage taking over until Natsu wasn't even thinking anymore.

"Holy shit," Gray whispered.

Natsu's eyes snapped open.

Gray had gotten closer, staring at him from centimeters away, but his gaze was tracing across Natsu's skin like there were patterns only he could see.

And then Natsu _felt_ them. Scales all over his face. He couldn't stop panting.

"That's really fucking hot," Gray whispered.

As Natsu stared into his eyes, trying to grasp onto reality there, Gray's lips parted and he kissed Natsu. The Dragon Slayer snatched at that, clung to the contact, trying to possess Gray's mouth and biting his lip. Gray made a sound that began as painful protest and turned into a moan.

"More," he breathed into Natsu's mouth.

Natsu wrapped his arms around Gray's waist and drew Gray to his chest. Neither of them could get enough of the other, thirsty for lips and tongue and roving hands. Gray dropped his mouth to Natsu's neck and sucked hard. As he feasted on Natsu's skin, Natsu tipped his head back and groaned, fingers curling around the rock-hard muscles by Gray's shoulders.

When Gray pulled away, leaving Natsu's throat wet and raw, he embraced Natsu and glommed onto him. It was a completely different kind of touch, but Natsu loved this just as much, the cuddling, Gray leaning on him, relying on him.

Slowly he realized: Gray's skin was all one temperature.

Peeling away from Gray (Gray grunted), he saw that both Gray's arms were a single, consistent brown.

"They're gone," he said.

Gray nodded. "They come and go. Sometimes I can control it."

Screwing his face up, darker patches began to rise on his skin.

"Does it hurt?" Natsu asked.

"Sometimes. Other times no." He caressed Natsu's face. "Yours are gone too."

"Yes, well, you started kissing me."

"That pulls you out of Dragon Force?"

"I only went _into_ it because you were talking about _back then._ "

Gray frowned.

"You got this way for me." Natsu's voice was shaking, and he was trying desperately to keep his magic under control. "The only reason you're marked up like this is because you…"

"I loved you."

"Yes. And you took that fucking curse full on. I can't remember that without," Natsu shuddered, "bursting into flames or worse."

"I didn't know it was traumatic for you," Gray murmured, thumb sliding gently over Natsu's lip.

"Of course it was. I loved you too. Still do."

Gray smiled, eyes crinkling up.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Okay?"

"I believe you."

"Good."

"Natsu," Gray said hesitantly, head dipping, "what do you think the others will think? The guild might have a few things to say about my curse, and you dating me while I'm like this."

"I don't care what others think. I just care about you."

"I know _you_ don't care how I look. But I'm still—"

"—absolutely perfect," Natsu finished for him.

"I had no clue you'd be such a sap."

They grinned at each other.

"Seriously though," Natsu touched his cheek, "people will understand. The guild will always love you, Gray. You're one of us. And having some demonic curse shit occasionally scarring your skin as a result of you saving your guildmate's—your _boyfriend's_ —life isn't going to make anyone upset. You're a fucking hero, and you need to remember that."

Gray laughed. "Thanks."

Their hands slid into each other and they turned together toward the hill beyond which the rest of the team camped.

"Boyfriend," Gray mused. "I like the sound of that."

The wonder in his voice made Natsu's chest light.

"There are other options if you don't," he joked. "Partner. Datefriend. Mate."

"Mate like on a ship?"

Natsu bared his teeth in an animalistic smile. "Like a dragon's mate."

Gray snorted as they began to walk back together, shoulders nestled comfortably and hips bumping as they walked.

"Do dragons have those?" Gray asked.

"I don't know. Igneel never had a 'special someone' while I was around. I never asked. As a kid, relationships were not something I was interested in."

"Why am I not surprised?"


	10. MLM - Not What It Looks Like (Groke)

_Taking a break from the S-class trials, Gray blows Loke and then fucks him against a tree. They're interrupted at a climactic moment. (Fic #3 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = This is not what it looks like + Groke. _**Explicit.**_

* * *

 **This Is Not What It Looks Like**

Gray kissed Loke harder, his lips insistent, his tongue invading. Loke was well familiar with passion, but Gray was something else, clinging to him, owning him, hands digging into his back.

At some point Gray had stripped Loke of his shirt by some magic, and so the touch was skin-on-skin, hot and sweaty contact. The jungle was partially to blame for that, but far more to blame was the way they were moving against each other, bumping and grinding with uncoordinated desperation.

"Fuck," Loke stammered between Gray biting his lips and sucking them with bruising force. "This is not what I expected to get out of S-class trials."

"Mm, me neither," Gray groaned, "but I don't regret it."

"I don't—ah!—either."

Gray had moved to his neck, nipping behind his ear and then running his tongue in a sensuous line down Loke's throat.

"F-Fuck, how do you know how to do this?" Loke asked.

"Guesswork," Gray said, continuing his downward trend and dropping to his knees.

"Oh," Loke squeaked as Gray pulled his shorts down.

"If you don't want me to, say so," Gray rumbled, glancing up.

Loke stared down at the shimmering line where Gray had licked down his abs, the love mark already bruising into his skin.

"Please?" he tried.

Leaning in, Gray close his eyes and inhaled, nosing at his cock, which was red and thick and eager.

When Gray took him in his mouth, Loke gave a cry, grabbing a tree to stay upright. Below, he could see Gray at his feet, cheek bulging with Loke's cock every time his nose bumped Loke's skin. He sucked hard, wet tongue almost harsh on Loke's length, but hot and tight and close too.

"W-Wait—ah, fuck, wait," Loke stammered, "slow down. I'm…mmm…gonna blow soon if—oh gods…"

Gray did slow, pulling off his dick for a second before taking him deep again. Loke's eyes were closed now, doing everything by feel, and he felt when he hit the back of Gray's throat, Gray swallowing experimentally around his tip.

"Gray," Loke groaned, "fuck, Gray…shitfuck…"

As he continued, Gray caressed his balls, fingers moving up, stroking his taint. Loke just about fell apart, finding a tree just behind him and leaning back against it, which thrust his cock forward and allowed him to go further down Gray's throat. Fuck.

Gray's probing fingers finally reached Loke's ass and Loke relaxed, familiar with the sensation as a single slick finger circled him and pushed in.

Goddamn, he was tight, but he quickly loosened enough for a second finger, focusing on Gray's mouth, letting Gray open him slowly and painstakingly. It was worth it. It was all going to be worth it.

Loke had been around a long time, and he was used to people expecting him to take control: people counting on his experience and even being a little insecure of their own next to the eternity he'd been alive and kicking (and thrusting). But Gray hadn't waited on him to take initiative; he'd simply gotten Loke's okay and taken over, attacking every corner of him in slow and wondrous ways.

Loke noticed when Gray's bobbing head sped up, three fingers thrusting and curling in his ass. Loke was on fire now, body alive with sensation, enthusiasm thrumming. When Gray took him deep and swallowed around his head, Loke let out a string of swearwords and came, Gray swallowing around him a few more times as he took it down his throat.

"Gods," Loke whimpered, voice hoarse. "You're so fucking good at this."

Gray wiped his mouth and stood, shorts disappearing as if by Loke's wish and revealing a very swollen dick begging for attention. Gray held a condom and he put it on, Loke about ready to explode as he watched.

"C'mere," Loke said, drawing him close, and Gray grinned at him.

"Oh, I am," he said, leaning against Loke on the tree and sliding his hands around Loke's thighs. "Part of being on a team is about taking care of each other," he whispered in Loke's ear. "And about how well we work together."

"I'll work with you, I'll fuck myself on you, take me, oh gods…"

Gray's grin was confident but turned on too, eyes large at the sound of Loke's voice.

Gray lifted him, Loke muttering, "Ahh, fuck, fuck yes."

Wrapping his arms around Gray's shoulders, Loke tilted his pelvis forward and felt the tip of Gray's cock bob against his skin. Gray shivered, eyes falling shut and his smirk replaced by awe.

"Oh gods, you r-ready?" Gray panted.

Loke just nodded, sweat dripping down his face.

Gray leaned in and bit his neck, and the next instant had moved his hips forward and lined himself up.

It took some shifting, what with no spare hands between them, but Gray was able to press his tip into Loke, who gasped at the feeling. That fullness continued pressing in, making heat rise in his body, that squeezing, rending pressure enough to make Loke nearly fall limp. He was nothing but the sensations in his ass, the joy pumping through his cock once more, the hard indents from Gray's fingers on his legs.

And at last, Gray was inside him, seated fully as the two of them breathed in time with each other.

"Gods, I…can I?" Gray asked, leaning in and biting Loke's neck again, as if he could find words there to express all the things he wanted.

"Yes—hahhh." Loke broke off as Gray slid out of him again and then jerked Loke back down onto himself, hips snapping forward.

Each thrust was accompanied by a groan or grunt of pleasure, Gray's face screwed up with the tension that ruled his body. His muscles shook, arms and chest knotted both from holding Loke up and from the yearning coiling in his body. Loke knew: he knew how that felt. To be squeezed so tightly by a man…

"Oh _gods,_ Gray," Loke moaned, bouncing against the tree trunk. "Godsss…oh fuck."

Fuck him Gray did, until every thrust was easy, the soreness in Loke's ass transformed into a grating pleasure. He twisted and writhed, trying to get the right angle every time so that Gray was rutting across his prostate. They were slick against each other now, arms grasping, chests together, their bodies merging with each time Gray pressed Loke to the bark.

Weariness and pleasure were at war in Loke's muscles now, making him spasm slightly—and Gray let out a yell.

"Ahh, gods! What…did you…?"

Loke did it again, deliberately, clenching around Gray's cock and getting another cry.

Gray's head fell forward onto Loke's shoulder and his pace sped up, until the roughness was almost too much. Loke kept clenching, loving the way Gray's breath heaved against his collarbone, the trembling of the fingers digging into his flesh.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Gray said, straightening for several more hard thrusts. "Fuck…oh—ahhhh, god!"

He fucked in hard. His hips hit the backs of Loke's thighs, hands digging in as he held Loke close and his cock spasmed inside Loke's body. Everything was hot and sweaty, but Loke fancied he could feel the condom filling with a new heat.

When they'd calmed down together, Gray gently set Loke down and pulled out, sliding off the condom and leaning against him so their bodies could curl together lengthwise.

Loke liked that, had always enjoyed closeness after sex, and it was no different for being in the middle of the forest on the guild's sacred island.

"That was…really amazing," Gray panted, grinning at him.

Loke grinned back. "Yeah. I'm sure we'll have more…free moments at later points."

Gray's eyes sparked. "Mm, I hope so."

Gods, those words made Loke shiver.

Gray kissed him on the mouth, simple and whole, then nuzzled his cheek before pushing himself up. He leaned over Loke for a minute like that, then opened his mouth to say—

A laugh was the only warning they got before someone crashed through the trees.

"Oh." Bickslow and Freed blinked at them.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Loke burst out, ridiculous since they were naked, cuddling, and looked guilty as hell.

"Uh-huh," Freed said, unconvinced. "Gods dammit, not again."

"Again?" Gray asked.

"That makes three," Bickslow said, grinning with his tongue out. "You jealous, Freed?"

"I am _not_ jealous," Freed growled.

"He'll be back, just wait; Master won't exile him forever—"

"Three what?" Loke interrupted.

"Couples," Bickslow laughed.

"Doing what you're doing," Freed added scornfully. "I swear we will never get off this island. First we ran into Cana and Lucy doing things in a pond that they most certainly didn't want us seeing, and then we basically tripped over Juvia and Lisanna making out."

"You know what this means, Freed?" Bickslow asked, leaning in so his face was at the level of Freed's.

Freed put a hand in the middle of his face and pushed him away.

"No, baka. I'm not making out with you."

Gray and Loke must've been staring at them with odd expressions, for Bickslow laughed.

"I'm wondering if it's something in the air," he said. "It seems to happen a lot on Tenroujima: guildmembers hooking up. They say this is where Mira and Erza did it the first time. That was the year Erza made S-Class. They say Mira made S-Class the next year because she had to fight Erza in one of the trials, and instead they went off to their 'spot' and re-enacted their anniversary."

"They say that, do they?" Gray asked.

"Not where Erza can hear, obviously."

"I would think not," he snorted.

"You've gotta wonder who else is doing it," Loke mused, getting into the spirit of the thing. "Obviously not Mest, since his partner is a child, but Gajeel and Levy are almost certainly up to something; we all know _that's_ been accruing for a while."

"Elfman and Ever, for sure," Freed said, getting a definite nod from Bickslow.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," Bickslow laughed, "they're all over each other when they think nobody's looking."

"That leaves…" Gray burst out laughing. "Well, obviously not Natsu and Happy."

The rest of them snorted and chuckled.

"No," Freed said, "definitely not."

"And I'm sure Erza and Mira will get around to it, since that seems to be their tradition," Bickslow said. "All we need is Laxus, and then Freed can get laid too—"

"Oi!" Freed exclaimed, going fuchsia.

"Everyone knows," Loke said, rolling his eyes.

"Would you please put on some clothes, Loke?" Freed retorted.

"Yes, yes, fine…"

"Not me?" Gray asked.

All three of them looked at him and laughed.

"You're never clothed, Gray," Bickslow said.

"Oh. Good point."

"We'll leave you to your…cuddling," Freed said. "Any idea which way the ocean is? I'm so turned around from avoiding people."

"Closest is that way," Loke pointed.

Once the pair had left, he turned back to his partner.

"I don't know how I feel hearing that we're following a trend."

Gray smirked.

"But I bet nobody's fucked like we have." He leaned in, covering Loke with his body again. "Up against a tree, moaning and squirming while I make your ass sore—"

Laughing, Loke pushed him away.

"Stop it. You're going to turn me on again."

Gray pulled away and glanced around, expression darting to business. "Let's go win these trials."


	11. MLM - Stars (Stingue)

_One of the Twin Dragons is gravely wounded. The other tries do do what he can to help, but he doesn't know if it'll be enough. (Fic #4 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = scars + Stingue.

* * *

 **Stars**

I can't breathe. I'm running so fast, breath cutting through my lungs. Can't stop. Sting needs me.

Behind me, the dark streets are silent, dripping. The rain is hardly a drizzle. But the thunder—it rolls out like a muffling carpet. On and on.

I push myself faster.

There's a sharp pain in my left leg, but I can't stop to inspect it; can't stop to see if it's a gash or just the muscles screaming—surely that, right? Not a wound from the fight, not dripping dark scarlet down my shin.

Fuck. I have no time to think.

The shadows call to me, but I can't duck into them. On the one hand, if I go into them now I'll never come out. On the other, I physically cannot: my magic is depleted.

Which is why I'm running through the rainy night while Sting lies behind me somewhere, unconscious and bloody and who knows what else.

I feel I've been running for hours. The guildhall rears up and I shout before I reach the doors.

"Help!"

The thunder drowns me out.

"Help!"

I crash through the doors like a bolt of lightning, and with the pounding my ears, I can't tell if the hall was quiet or if my entrance silenced it.

"I need help!" I scream.

"Rogue?" Yukino's in front of me, scanning me and trying to catch my eye. "Calm down. Where are you hurt?"

"Me?" I stare at her. "Not me."

My stomach is still sprinting, churning and rolling as the world tilts. I can't stand still, can't take any more—I vomit on the floor.

"Where's Sting?" Minerva demands. Her firm voice takes hold of the situation, eases me into a state of following directions. That I can do.

"Left him," I gasp, wiping my mouth. "Hurt, and—I have no magic—"

"Rufus." Minerva whirls around. "Where did they go, do you remember?"

Rufus tilts his head. "They took that mission north of Clover—"

"Great. Stand right there. Orga!" she bellows. "Get over here; it's easier to move you if you're in fucking reach."

"Huh?" He lumbers over. I stare around at the four of them, still panting like I'm dying.

"We," she says, "are going to save our guildmaster."

* * *

Rogue is coming for me.

I know he's out there; I know he ran off to get help. I just wonder when he'll be back. Because I'm lonely, and I'm scared. I can't move and my head throbs with my pulse, which beats in my ears.

I don't know what happened to me. I can't remember. It's all blank. I know, cognitively, that we left for a mission together. I remember walking beside him on the road, our shoulders nudging, Rogue's little grin hidden behind his hair. I remember making him tie it back while we were in the forest so I could see him better; he's so embarrassed about his scar when we're in town. I remember his movements, his gestures, his laugh.

I know we were doing something, hunting for clues. I don't fully remember what the mission was—Rogue is the one who handles the details. I remember we found something or someone, and I remember a fight, but in my memory it really wasn't that bad.

After that, it's all fuzzy. At some point, I was conscious, but I don't remember that, either. It's all just pain and the cold wind and the silence, and the absence of Rogue at my side.

But I know he'll come back for me. He always has. I trust in Rogue with my life.

My hands start tingling and I'm not sure if that's good or bad. Does that mean feeling is coming back, or leaving me? I open my eyes and see only the dark again, but after a moment, I see through the branches above me pinpoints of light.

Despite the occasional wet drop that falls from the tree onto my face, the sky is clear. The stars are tiny and numerous. There's so many of them, and they're each so powerful and huge and far away, and I feel miniscule in comparison. My pain is miniscule, and my broken body is miniscule. I am just a speck in existence, and that's okay.

I sigh and imagine Rogue beside me, staring up at the stars. He will point out different ones and tell me which planets they are. He will tell me everything I ever wanted to know.

* * *

Sting's there beneath the tree where I left him. His eyes are open.

My heart shoots into my throat. People _shut_ their eyes when they pass out, they don't stare at the sky, they don't—

I see his chest move, and I almost fall over.

When I reach his side, I collapse, letting my face lie in the mud by his arm and taking his hand in both of mine. Yukino looks at me in concern, but she keeps her focus on Sting, checking him over, doing things I don't recognize and don't try to.

I can't look at his wounds. I know if I do I'll throw up again, or pass out, or feel so much guilt that I'll do something stupid.

"Rufus," Yukino murmurs, and enlists his help, giving directions which I don't listen to.

Minerva and Orga are guarding the boundaries, scouring the dark for prey. I know they're long gone: I wouldn't have left Sting if there was still danger. I would stand over his body fighting enemies off until I dropped.

The things Yukino and Rufus do make various sounds, mostly rustles and the occasional wet squelch because of the mud. But Rufus shifts something while Yukino holds Sting down and there's a _crack._ Not like magic: like breaking bones.

I jerk at the noise, squeezing Sting's hand in a death grip. Yukino and Rufus are panting, working fast, and I can tell from the pitch of their voices that they're worried.

"He's got to stay unconscious—oh no," I hear Yukino say.

"Rogue."

It takes a moment for my mind to figure out whose voice is talking. And then I look up and in the dark I can see Sting's eyes looking back at me. His head is tilted to the side at an uncomfortable angle, and he's heaving weakly for breath, but he's talking.

"Rogue, darling." He coughs.

"Yes? Yes. I'm here," I say, shifting across the slick grass and roots to curl up right at his side. He's so cold. I don't know how I didn't notice before. Shivering, I wrap myself around the parts of him that aren't receiving medical attention, hoping it helps.

"Rogue," he whispers again. "Did you see the stars?"

"What?" I blink and look up, peering at the branches above us.

"The stars. You told me which ones are which. You made up constellations. It was wonderful."

I don't know what he's babbling about, but I have no chance to ask, because he breaks off, eyes rolling shut. Still hugging him, I stare up at the tiny lights, so distant and still. They make me feel huge, looming, like all the pressure of the world is on me while the stars just sit there in their little spots in heaven.

"Sting…" I say, but I realize he's lost consciousness again.

I start crying, putting my cheek against his.

"Please be okay," I hiccough.

* * *

I open my eyes to the ceiling of the Sabertooth infirmary. There's an even, quiet breath beside me and I smile knowing he's okay and sleeping peacefully. He needs it.

He's cold against my side, but that's why I'm lying in the bed with him. To help him. Because I love him.

I glance at the clock.

"Rogue," I murmur, rubbing a finger over his cheek.

There's an indecipherable mutter.

"Time to wake up. You have to take meds."

Rogue shifts to press his face into the pillow, resting his hand on my chest with his middle finger pointed out. I laugh.

"C'mon, sleepyhead." I jostle him. "If you don't, you'll just spend the day coughing and I won't be able to let you out of this room. Guildmaster's orders."

"You're not the boss of the infirmary," he grunts. "Yukino is."

"Yeah, but I'm her boss."

"Says you," Rogue grumps. Sitting up, he sulkily watches me cross the room and retrieve the two bottles of pills.

"Just two more days and you'll be officially pneumonia-free," I say cheerfully, handing him a glass of water.

"Can't fucking wait."

"I know, love." I perch on the bed and kiss his temple.

I can tell he needs his space right now: grumpy morning Rogue often does. I head to the adjoined shower where I've been keeping my things during Rogue's sojourn here—ha, as if I would go home and sleep in our bed without him—and get dressed. By the time I'm out again, Rogue is humming something haunting in a minor key and stretching. Stretching _carefully,_ because too much physical exercise is still dangerous for him.

He blinks when I walk back into the room.

"You're binding again," he says.

"Yeah, finally." I laugh, looking down at my flat chest. It still makes me nervous that I'm going to look down and have breasts: I spent over a week like that, feeling disoriented and outside my body every time I did. There's still a massive scar down my chest and always will be, but I'm less concerned about that. Scars are badass. Natsu-san has an incredible array, and I have yet to catch up.

Sinking onto the bed beside Rogue, I take his hand and caress the back of it sweetly.

"How are you today?"

"I'll be okay."

When I meet his eyes, Rogue is blushing.

"You're here, after all," he murmurs.

I'm about to say that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard out of him.

"You're alive," he says.

I choke up and can't speak. He was so worried. Yukino sternly told him that he got sick because of his worrying (and because of being out all night soaking wet, injured, and exhausted).

"I can't be anything else with you around," I tease gently. "You'd pull me out of death's claws yourself."

He blushes harder. "Yeah, probably."

"C'mere."

I wrap him in my arms. Rogue melts into me, weary and sluggish with his head on my chest. I rock him back and forth.

"Do you remember talking to me about the stars?" he asks.

I blink. "Vaguely?"

"You talked about how beautiful they were, and said I'd told you the names of all of them."

I laugh. "I might've been a bit delirious."

"You were. They were beautiful, though."

"I'm sure."

I squeeze him tightly and Rogue sighs against me.

"Let's not go through that again, shall we?" I say.

"No, let's not."


	12. MLM - Smoking (Sildarts)

_Silver catches Gildarts smoking. Sarcasm and what may or may not constitute flirting follow. When things seem to be resolved...Natsu and Gray show up on the scene. (Fic #5 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = smoking + Sildarts.

* * *

 **Smoking**

Silver came around the corner of the guildhall and nearly ran into the man leaning there against the wall. Gildarts blew out a thin stream of smoke between his lips into the air between them.

"Someone feeling a little tense?" Silver asked.

"Maybe." Gildarts took another drag and blew it Silver's direction, almost as if he were _trying_ to annoy him.

Hell, of course he was.

"That's not good for you," Silver said.

"Don't really care," Gildarts replied.

"Where'd you pick up the habit anyway?"

"Funny thing," Gildarts smirked. "Your son."

"My son doesn't smoke hash."

"True. I don't know how he stands cigarettes—ugh, the taste, let alone the smell."

"It's _your_ ward who has an incredible sense of smell," Silver said, crossing his arms.

"If Gray's lost his, it's because of all the smoking."

"Funny thing," Silver said, imitating his voice, "but my son quit."

"Did he really?"

"He's got better things to burn."

If Gildarts had a reaction, he didn't show it. He stared off, inhaling then offering the joint. "Want some?"

"There's nothing but the dregs left."

"So?"

Despite his earlier protestations, Silver took a hit and handed it back.

As Gildarts finished it off, Silver leaned beside him against the guild, the pair of them staring into the dusky distance. Gildarts tossed the last bit of his joint on the ground and stomped on it with what seemed to Silver a childish amount of glee.

"Learned that from you son, too," he said, grinning.

Silver just shook his head.

"Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."

"Sometimes?" Gildarts exclaimed. " _All_ the time your first reaction should be to kiss me, of course."

Silver snorted. "Is this your version of seduction?"

"Is it working?"

"No."

Gildarts shrugged, then leaned in and kissed him before Silver could react.

"You're lucky I took a drag, otherwise I would not let you kiss me with your mouth tasting of pot smoke."

"Lucky me," Gildarts said lazily. "I'm feeling all loose and happy now. Wanna fuck me?"

Silver burst out laughing.

"That's your first reaction when high?"

"I did just say I'm loose, didn't I?"

"We're at the guild, dumbass."

"So let's go home. You can take me over the sofa."

"Mm." Silver got a feral glint in his eye. "Or maybe over the kitchen counter."

Gildarts grinned back.

"I do love doing that," Silver said, leaning in to growl in Gildarts's ear. Gildarts replied by running a hand over the front of his trousers, but Silver grabbed his wrist. "Not until you're sober."

"What? I'm not actually high."

"You just smoked an entire joint."

"Hardly. I'd just taken my first drag when you walked up. It was a small roll."

"That's tiny," Silver said, blinking.

"I'm all out," Gildarts admitted with a grimace. "That's the last of what I'm allowing myself this month, so I did the best I can and now I have to rely purely on alcohol until November first."

"Oh you poor thing," Silver teased.

"Yes," Gildarts said dramatically.

"You poor, poor, fuckable thing."

Gildarts's smile was back in an instant and he grabbed Silver's collar to haul him into a kiss.

"Shall we go home, then?" he whispered.

"Yes."

* * *

Except, when they walked in the door, Silver squeezing Gildarts's ass as they tumbled inside, they were met by noises of surprise.

One's son and the other's ward sprang apart with faces as red as cinnamon candies. Faces that had most definitely been pressed together a moment before.

"What in…" Gildarts looked between Gray and Natsu, astonished.

"We can explain," Gray gasped out.

"Wait, so," Gildarts interrupted, turning to Silver, "when you said 'better things to burn,' you meant…"

Silver rolled his eyes.

"They've been dating for a week, and speaking of smoking, your ward's hair does every time he sees my son, so it's really not that hard to figure out."

"I—I do not!" Natsu exclaimed.

"Do too," Gray and Silver said together.

"Have you been stealing my hash?" Gildarts asked the two boys.

"Okay, that's enough," Silver said, grabbing his partner's hand. "You two, be safe. Have fun."

"What?" the boys exclaimed, but Silver had dragged Gildarts through the room and they were disappearing into their bedroom at the far end of the hall.

"So much for counter or sofa," Silver said, "but do you want to be fucked against the window? Because I'd really like to take you right here against this sill, where a passerby who looked closely at our window could catch a glimpse of you getting fucked senseless."

Gildarts groaned and dropped his pants.

"Yes, please."

* * *

 **A/N:** I don't know when Gildarts became such a slut, but it felt right.


	13. MLM - Tired (Fraxus)

_Laxus and Freed are exhausted and injured, but they still manage to get up to mischief. It's just a bit creative. (Fic #6 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = tired + Fraxus.

* * *

 **Tired**

Laxus was sore in every muscle.

It felt like someone had danced a hundred jigs over every part of his body. His fucking armpit felt bruised. Lying in bed wasn't even helping. Everything hurt, so there was no comfy way to lie so that he wasn't in pain—and he wasn't in any state to go shifting around anyway.

Beside him, Freed groaned.

"Can't sleep either?" Laxus asked.

"There's too much fucking light," Freed groaned. "Even with the blinds closed. My body still knows it's the middle of the afternoon."

"Yeah. Last time I pulled an all-nighter on a job, I was asleep by ten in the morning."

"Too much pain this time."

"Too much pain," Laxus agreed.

Gradual rustles led to a hand finding his, long fingers curling loosely around his own. They lay like that for a while, Laxus rubbing his thumb back and forth across Freed's fingers at a very slow pace.

"I like your calluses," Laxus said.

He could hear Freed's smile in the way he exhaled.

"I like yours too."

Laxus gave his hand a squeeze and managed to roll onto his side, met with the much nicer view of Freed's weary face, rather than the ceiling.

Sighing, Laxus ran his hand up Freed's arm and rested it on Freed's bare shoulder.

"Mm, you're warm," Freed said.

"You're cold." Laxus brushed his fingers up Freed's neck to his chin. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just happens when I'm tired. My body wants to shut down and sleep."

Taking a deep breath, Freed shifted closer so his shoulder was up against Laxus's chest. Laxus decided that the movement would be worth it and went through the aching procedure of removing his shirt. Freed was already shirtless, his in shreds from their mission, somewhere in some field.

"You got a scratch," Freed said.

Laxus followed his gaze to a red mark on his pec. "Not bad. You got worse."

Freed looked down in surprise, fingering the scab across his stomach. When Laxus gently ran his fingers over it, Freed closed his eyes and hummed.

"Sorry you got hit," Laxus said, tilting his head just a few centimeters so he could kiss Freed's shoulder. "I can't believe I missed that shot."

"You can't get it right every time," Freed said. "Losing one of my shirts is not a high price to pay, anyway. They're replaceable."

He opened his eyes and found Laxus's gaze.

"You, on the other hand, are not, Monsieur Dreyar."

Laxus grunted.

Smiling, Freed kissed him softly on the mouth. They leaned into each other, more supportive than energetic as they mouthed softly at each other.

Freed's head thudded back onto the pillow, but Laxus put his forehead against Freed's collarbone. Sliding himself down the bed, he made his way to the cut on Freed's stomach and flicked his tongue out to gently lick along it. Freed's reaction was a slight shuddering, abs tensing and rising toward Laxus's mouth.

Laxus's worn-out body hadn't wanted sleep or anything else, but now he found himself with enough energy to bite Freed's side, sucking the skin below his ribs, watching Freed's hips squirm at the touch.

"Laxus…" It was half a groan, half a plea. "I'm too tired to…but…"

Freed trailed off.

"Same," Laxus said, shifting himself halfway on top of Freed, up at eye level again. He could put his weight on his side and not crush his partner, and this gave him a lot more ability to touch Freed.

Laxus stared at the gradations of blue in Freed's eyes when he felt fingers under his chin, trailing up to his lips.

The touch was simple, but so erotic, Freed dragging his finger along Laxus's bottom lip. After a trembling breath, Laxus kissed his finger, watched Freed's eyes fall shut, his face looking vulnerable and in love.

Laxus's head fell forward and he sucked at Freed's neck.

"Gods," Freed breathed desperately.

When one's whole body hurt, each tiny sensation of pleasure was intense, like a spotlight on a single nerve. That was how it felt when Freed's cold fingertips brushed over his nipple. Groaning, Laxus bit down on his throat, feeling Freed's breath seize under his teeth.

"Fuck, Laxus," Freed moaned, muffled, fingers still trailing over his chest, flicking over the other nipple and causing twinges of pleasure to ricochet up his chest. Laxus dragged his nails over Freed's skin. "Laxus… Oh my god."

"Keep making those sounds," Laxus growled, feeling the pulsing need below his belt slide along Freed's hipbone.

With his other hand, Freed took firm hold of Laxus's chin and drew him in, kissing him harder this time and running his tongue inside Laxus's lips. Laxus moved sideways—

"Fuck!" Freed broke off to tip his head back, mouth open. Laxus had shifted his lower body—he ached, but it took only a little force to rub up against the length of Freed's lithe frame, and this put them against each other, hard and tall.

The stimulation was intense, directly against knotted muscles. Freed was arching despite his weariness, abs tensing and turning Laxus on even more.

He loved looking at Freed, loved the curve of his muscles, the compact efficiency of his body. The sharp divots that ran down into his trousers, the line of hair that pointed straight down to where his cock strained up against fabric.

Shifting onto his arms, Laxus moved again, finding a slow, excruciating rhythm that had them both panting and groaning each other's name.

"Freed," Laxus managed, thinking about Freed's long cock, "fuck, I…I wish I had the energy to ride you."

Freed's eyes opened, needy and debauched.

"I wish I had the energy to fuck you," he replied.

Laxus bit his lip and gave a hard thrust so they ground together. There was cloth in the way and yet there was no time, no energy to remove it: there was only feeling, and the feelings said to keep moving. And there was something incredibly sexy about getting excited and fucking through their trousers.

As Laxus's arms shook, Freed added his own, hands on Laxus's chest helping to hold him up and keep them frotting against each other.

"You're so…" Freed's fingers tightened on his skin. "You're so beautiful."

The quiet hitch in his voice made Laxus look down at him. There was a longing on Freed's face that hit him square in the chest and pushed all the air out of the room.

"Freed. Gods, Freed."

Neck tensing, Freed leaned up as Laxus continued moving, and kissed Laxus's lips. It was a gentle and warm kiss, followed by a pause, then another kiss, sweet and consuming. Freed's body moved up against Laxus's, humping, grasping.

"Right there. Fuck." Freed's voice slid to a whisper. "I love feeling your cock on mine."

Those words were sensual tendrils that grabbed Laxus by the balls.

"Freed—oh godsss…"

"Yes?" Freed hissed, possessive, and twisted his nipple.

Laxus came hard in his pants, a warm rush suffused with pleasure. The rough texture of his trousers gave added friction. Tingling excitement was all of his existence; Laxus felt every part of him awash with it.

He listened in awed contentment as Freed gasped, "Laxus. Oh fuck, Laxus!" and clamped his thighs around Laxus's leg.

Freed's mouth fell open. Laxus swiped his tongue over Freed's lips to join his ecstasy, tasting Freed's shivering breath.

Smelling Freed's cum, Laxus settled back, peace relaxing his muscles. As he stared wearily down at his grinning boyfriend, he felt like a king: he could get Freed Justine to make those debauched sounds and come so intensely and stare up with whole galaxies in his eyes.

He didn't know what he'd do without Freed.

Freed's eyes were drifting shut, and Laxus yawned as he slid onto the bed beside Freed.

"Stay close," Freed murmured, pulling Laxus's arm over himself so Laxus's sweaty chest pressed against Freed's back.

Laxus didn't protest: he didn't think he could move.

"Mm. Love you," Freed said, cuddling closer. "Thanks."

"Thanks back." Laxus sleepily kissed the nearest part of Freed he could reach: the tip of his ear. "Love you back."

Freed made a dreamy noise. Laxus realized he closed his eyes without meaning to, and he let it happen, the feeling pulling him down into the mattress and sleep. They could clean up later.

As he drifted off, he felt Freed under his palm, warm and breathing and close. Everything was okay.


	14. MLM - Memories (Jerik)

_Erik is startled to hear Jellal thinking about when they first met. And then Jellal starts hearing Erik's thoughts too. (Fic #7 for When We Take Different Paths MLM week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = memory + Jerik.

 **Trigger warning** for harmful thought patterns (negative self-worth mantras, etc).

* * *

 **Memories**

Erik's ears perked. In Jellal's head, he saw his own face. Fifteen years younger.

Jellal's thoughts weren't always clear, but these were burnished and bright, a memory Jellal was contemplating with great intensity. As the man sat there, a small and thoughtful smile graced his face, and that was just weird.

In the memory, Erik recognized the day they first met.

It was in the evening after feeding, in a cell where the children were thrown. Through Jellal's eyes, he saw a dirty child holding a tiny baby adder he had found and was nursing back to health. Erik's wide eyes looked up through hanks of red hair, and Erik, who thought he'd always been self-contained, saw how obvious his fear was.

The thing about memories was that they weren't like lacrima-vision. They were tempered and tainted by the rememberer's emotions; details were blurry except for those certain things that had made them feel a certain way.

In Jellal's memory, everything was fuzzy but for Erik's face. His eyes were sharpest of all, and they didn't look exactly like Erik's eyes in real life: they were brighter, less shadowed, less jaded, more open.

That was how Jellal had seen him?

For him, Jellal had been a startling boy. Brightly-colored hair in a place where everything was dull. The strange tattoo around his eye captivated young Erik immediately. He wanted to know where it came from, if it had hurt.

But his first words were grumpy, because this random boy had just walked up to him without explaining, and in this place, when you didn't understand bad things happened. They beat you or you missed a meal or they took you away and sometimes you never came back. Those were all incomprehensible things.

This boy was incomprehensible. He was _smiling._

In Jellal's memory, Erik saw the other view. Saw his younger self stick out his chin and say with quavery bravado, "What are you looking at?"

"Is that your snake?"

Erik immediately caged the animal against his chest. "Don't you dare. If you tell the guards, I'll kill you."

"Where'd you find it?" the boy asked, walking forward—Erik remembered how unperturbed Jellal had seemed, and he could see his own disconcerted expression.

How small and insecure he looked.

"She was hurt," Erik said quietly, still cradling the snake.

"I saw you feed her some of your meat. That's very kind of you."

"She's got to eat like us."

"I'm hungry all the time," Jellal said sadly. In the memory, Erik could practically feel both children's hunger. How basic they'd been in those days, living for food and the tiniest bits of comfort they could find. Nothing beyond the next minute seemed real. It was how the guards controlled them. Who could dream of rebellion when you were so busy dreaming of stealing an extra slice of bread?

"Me too. Hungry," Erik said.

When Jellal's eye level lowered—sitting down next to Erik—Erik gave him a distrustful glare, but then shifted and let Jellal share the rock he was using as a bench.

"What's her name?" Jellal asked.

"Cubellios."

"May I pet her?"

"No," Erik burst out.

"Okay." Jellal backed away a bit—at the time, Erik had interpreted it as him reacting to Erik's anger, but from this perspective, he realized Jellal was only trying to seem nonthreatening.

Jellal continued asking questions, and this moved on to them conversing about the types of animals around their hometowns. It turned out they were from the same area—or at least, they had a lot of similar memories. Neither remembered the name of where they were from.

"You can touch her," Erik finally said, grudging. "Careful," he added. "She's fragile. And she'll bite. Just pet her belly with a finger."

Jellal obediently followed directions. Erik remember this part well: how Jellal's eyes had widened in delighted awe, how he'd looked at Erik with that expression, and for a moment, they weren't in a prison, they were just two boys excited about a snake together.

The adult Jellal shook his head and the memory faded—right when it had gotten good, too, when they'd started talking about deeper things; sadder things, what they wanted, what they hated about the Tower, if they were going to get out.

Jellal had let the memory end on a note that made Erik surprisingly embarrassed. He felt vulnerable knowing Jellal had remembered all that; like some truth about himself had been laid bare.

Ironically, once upon a time, he wouldn't have minded feeling that way where Jellal was concerned. But he was older now. Vulnerability repelled him these days.

The reason he liked the rest of that memory, depressing as it was when they were talking about their nonexistent future, was that he remembered getting lost in the conversation, feeling not alone for the first time in his life. He had _found_ something, there in that hellhole of a place, and it was precious.

The memory was bittersweet, too, because he had lost that precious thing.

Erik had always wanted a friend whom he could share his thoughts with. Lean on. Speak with. Someone whose out-loud words he actually wanted to listen to. There were times he'd glimpsed what that might be like, times where he and fellow slave-boy Jellal sat down in the corner of the cold cell where they were forced to sleep and had talked and laughed and sat together and commiserated and teased and told stories, and it had been wonderful. It had been friendship.

But every time, that was taken away. By someone: the Tower, Brain, the Council.

Erza fucking Scarlet.

The firelit smile on Jellal's face tonight was an enigma. Erik hadn't listened to his thoughts in a long time, not since he'd had to sit there and witness Jellal appreciating Erza's looks—he just couldn't stomach that sort of thing. He told himself that was true of any besotted thoughts he overheard, with Jellal—no, with Jellal it was worse.

Jellal had been his first and last friend.

And yet, Jellal had betrayed him, too—betrayed all of them. Then rescued them. He'd helped them. He'd…

He'd always been there.

"I can hear you, Erik."

Erik's head shot up, trying to decipher whose thoughts he was hearing—no one else was with them at the fire, but the rest were all within his earshot—but no, Jellal's _mouth_ moved, and his body turned so he could smile directly at Erik.

"Anything I can do for you?" Jellal asked, still wearing the damn fucking serene smile.

"No," Erik grunted, rising. "And the name is Cobra. Get it right."

"It's never been Cobra," Jellal said. "You don't think of yourself as Cobra. That's a codename Brain gave to separate you from your past identity. To turn you into the person he would mold, who would do his will without realizing it. It's a classic manipulation technique in trafficking circles."

"You have a real fucking way with words, you know that?" Erik snarled. "I've never done anyone's will but my own."

"Alright."

"What do you mean _alright?_ " Erik sneered. Jellal was trying to fucking patronize him? As if.

Jellal rose across from him, expression falling into a frown for the first time. Despite his frustration, Erik found himself automatically wondering how he'd disappointed the man.

 _How about…we be honest._ This time Jellal's words were in Erik's head. _But if that's not what you want, I can go._

 _Can you really hear me?_ Erik thought back.

 _Yes._

He did not understand that. How someone without his magic could do that. On the other hand, Jellal was more capable with magic than anyone Erik had ever met.

 _What the fuck do you want to be honest about? Spit it out._

 _Feelings,_ Jellal replied simply.

Erik's lip curled. "Whatever," he said aloud. "You do that if you want."

"Erik."

"It's Cobra. If I have to tell you one more—"

He was cut off by cloth muffling his mouth, Jellal's hood getting in his face as Jellal held him.

Erik was shocked. He hadn't even heard the move coming. Hadn't anticipated… Nobody touched him like this. No one.

"I'm sorry for everything," Jellal whispered.

He stepped back, and Erik hunched, trying to get away from the touch that burned—

Jellal reacted to this with fear and retreat.

"I should've known. Fuck, I'm sorry," Jellal said, backing up another step. "I know what you're feeling, being touched without warning—shitfuck. I won't do that again."

Erik swallowed.

Jellal's head shot up.

"Really?" he asked.

"I didn't say—" Erik began.

"You do want…?"

Erik shrugged; he was done trying to anticipate where this conversation was going. His guildmates were right: having someone hear your thoughts was disconcerting.

He wouldn't mind being hugged again. If it were Jellal.

"Yes," Erik said.

The fear left Jellal's face, replaced by an emotion that crinkled his eyes up at the corners ever so slightly, but which also had him looking…awed? Contemplative? Erik couldn't place it. And he couldn't hear any of Jellal's thoughts.

But though he smiled at Erik's _yes,_ Jellal did not come closer.

"I never liked Erza like that, you know," Jellal said quietly, ducking his head in a shy gesture as his cheeks turned pink. "You can stop thinking that. She's my best friend, my grounding rod, but not…it's not like that."

Erik still felt jealous, and he let it roar through his head.

"Yeah, sorry," Jellal said, scratching his neck. "I probably should've cleared that up a long time ago. I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Why not?" Erik asked. _And why me?_

"Because…"

Jellal's expression folded, his body drawing in and hands creeping up to cover his mouth.

"Fuck, I don't deserve to say this."

"Which?"

"I…I was terrible to you," Jellal murmured.

"Yeah, you were," Erik growled.

They were on the edge of very important things now. The most important. They were at the crux of the matter, and Erik would not let this go.

"You—You…" Erik's throat closed around the pain in his heart.

"Say it," Jellal whispered.

"You enslaved me," Erik choked out. "You kept me on that island even though I wanted to leave. You lied to me, and made me believe that doing what you wanted would get me what I wanted. You used me—"

"I used your emotions." Jellal's fingers had crept up to cover his eyes, and his shoulders shuddered like a building considering its own collapse. Erik could smell the salt of tears. "I knew you liked me and I—I used that. Like a bastard I used that, and…"

"You used all of us. I don't care what that witch Ultear said: even if she manipulated you, you still made those choices. You still ruled us and made us keep building that tower for you. You made us _want_ the hardship, the lack of food, taught us to embrace sacrifice…"

"I don't deserve—"

"It was messed up. I wanted you as my _friend,_ " Erik snarled. "You _were_ my friend. I trusted you. And you just used me. Everyone in my life has used me."

"I'm sorry," Jellal hiccoughed, wiping his face. His eyes were red-rimmed.

Erik huffed, feeling exhausted. His blood pumped in his ears. All he could hear was the weight of Jellal's guilt, and it did nothing to assuage his anger. Through all these years, he'd held onto the emotions that Jellal had first ignited in him, had avoided this conflict by thinking surely something would excuse it all. Now that they were discussing what Jellal had done…Erik couldn't see how he'd ever thought they could get past this.

Jellal's mental walls crumbled as his mind turned inward on itself. It gave Erik an open door to his thoughts.

To every pain that began to rush through him.

Jellal's guilt and shame imploded, and Jellal flew down a spiral of self-loathing. This was clearly a well-traveled path, for Jellal's inner voice repeated, _I deserve it I deserve it I deserve it,_ over and over with the habitual ease of an addict.

In that spiral, Jellal's worst memories surfaced, and he dove headfirst into them.

Erik almost threw up.

It was an instinctual reaction, the sudden assault of torturing sensations hitting him like a physical blow. Pain and blood and jeers and blows. Jellal stripped and whipped by a roomful of guards; Jellal beaten until he lay still, eyes falling shut only to be brought back from the edge of unconsciousness by a vicious kick between his legs; Jellal's hair jerked back so hard some parted from his scalp, face held still as those over him discussed taking his eye, watching as they brought the knife down and he couldn't move, their laughter, them cutting his chest with that knife over and over until he wished they'd taken his eye so he'd be left alone.

 _I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it…_

Other things slipped through, Jellal staring down at plans for the tower while tears obscured his vision, Jellal on his knees begging for a better world, for death, for revenge, for his body to stop hurting and nightmares to stop assailing him every night. Praying, and nothing worked, no one listened to little broken Jellal, but if he worked harder, if he finished the tower, someone would save him, or at the very least he'd have the power to exact revenge and end the world that hurt children without care.

Jellal stuffed these memories down like they hurt, returning to _I deserve it_ and snatching at memories of pain and torture like they could rescue him from hope.

 _Hope kills. Love is a lie. No one cares. I deserve it, I deserve it…_

Erik was crying. He never cried.

Fuck.

His breath shook out of him as he collected himself.

FUCK.

It was loud enough any mind nearby could hear.

There was Jellal's mental _oh shit_ and the realization that Erik could hear his thoughts. Then the mantra changed to, _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

 _I forgive him,_ Erik thought. _I forgive him for all of it._

To his amazement, it was true.

The horror that dwelt in the dark pits of Jellal's mind tugged at Erik. Inside, they were the same. Small and scared that everything would be taken away, again and again. Terrified of pain. Wondering if things could ever get better, hating how painful it was to dream, fearing nobody would ever love them, watching everyone they knew take their hope and use it against them.

Without hope, they would die. Both of them would. They would stop moving, lay down, and die.

Tiny and completely unintentional, Jellal thought, _I don't want to be alone anymore._

And Erik thought, _I don't either._

They stared at each other as they both realized the other had heard.

"Just stop thinking such terrible things," Erik said gruffly, rubbing his arms. "I don't like it."

"I'm sorry," Jellal whispered.

"Those are messed up memories."

"I—I'll try and…" _…think quieter._ "…stop thinking about it. I'm sorry."

"Why the fucking hell would you be sorry?" Erik crossed his arms. "Not like you did anything to deserve it."

"I suppose." _I deserve it…_

 _No, you fucking don't. Stop saying that._

 _Stop listening to me,_ Jellal thought back.

 _Like I can help it._

 _You can. It's easy. You just stop listening._

"Then you stop listening, if it's so fucking easy," Erik said.

Jellal looked away.

Erik closed his eyes and let his pulse calm.

"Life is shit," he said after a while.

A small smile tugged at Jellal's lips, a hint of the confident Jellal whom Erik knew. "Yeah."

After a moment, Jellal spoke again.

"You wanted to know how I could hear you. I learned when we fought."

Erik raised skeptical eyebrows. "When you kicked my ass?"

"Your words, not mine."

"How the fuck did you learn to listen to thoughts in the middle of fighting?"

"I…watched your magic? The same way anyone learns new spells."

Erik shook his head. "I give up trying to understand you."

Finally Jellal smiled, head down as if to hide. Erik had the sudden urge to tip his chin back up and make Jellal face him.

Blushing, Jellal coughed.

Erik was just thinking (and trying not to, in case Jellal was listening) that Jellal looked cute like this when he heard Jellal think:

 _He's sweet and hot. I am so fucked._

Erik choked.

Wait.

 _I heard that,_ he thought, trying to stay calm. It was just a thought. People had thoughts all the time.

But…not those thoughts. Not about a friend.

 _You heard_ _nothing_ _._ Jellal's thoughts were definitely embarrassed, and his face was an even brighter hue.

"No," Erik said, smiling a little, "Pretty sure I did."

 _Fuck._ That was an unintentional thought. It was followed by a mess of memories in a tangled heap—an image of Erik as a young boy pointing at something excitedly and Jellal watching the way the dawn lit him and the way Erik's smile transformed his face into something beautiful—then snapping to a memory of yelling at a girl and forcing her into submission until she willingly carried the bucket of stones that Jellal told her to.

Then bang, another memory of Erik, this one distinctly more erotic, of a time when Jellal had run into the Oracion Seis on the continent, and Jellal had apparently gone to the river while Erik was bathing and caught a glimpse of him shirtless and stayed there staring… Then a memory of Jellal striking Simon across the cheek and sending him flying for not doing as he was told.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to get whiplash," Erik rumbled.

"I—it's not for you, it's…" Jellal's eyelids fluttered, breath stuttering.

"To remind yourself you don't deserve me," Erik said. "Yeah, I got that."

Inhaling, Jellal met Erik's gaze.

Erik had taken a step closer, into Jellal's personal space—he wasn't sure when, but the gesture felt like he was being comforting, or trying to—he was incredibly bad at this. Bad at taking care of people.

"You think I'm any better?" Jellal whispered.

"You take care of people now." Erik looked around the camp. Somehow, it was still just the two of them—Erik checked and found Melody still collecting firewood, Sawyer and Richard goofing off instead of helping, Sorano looking for a place to pee. "You have a whole guild who relies on you, and you take care of them, you—"

Erik stopped.

He'd heard it.

Jellal wanted to kiss him.

Jellal didn't move.

He didn't think he deserved to, of course. Didn't think he was worthy.

 _Don't I deserve it?_ Erik thought. _I've waited. I've endured. When have I done enough to get my kiss?_

Jellal's mouth hung open in an 'o.'

 _If you really want to take care of me, stop keeping me waiting._

Erik was staring grumpily at a tree as he thought it, distinctly discomfited by how raw these words were—there was no way in hell he could've said them aloud.

"You're sure," Jellal whispered. "This is what you want?"

Erik looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"If you don't want to, I can go," he echoed. There was a distinct twist in his stomach.

That got Jellal moving, a strange mirror of emotion that rattled between them until the tension was far too high and they'd walked right up to each other's faces.

When Jellal kissed him, Erik gasped, surprised and automatic. His instincts rose the next instant, tongue stretching eagerly to swive the inside of Jellal's mouth: to capture him and keep him there where Erik could have him. Where it could continue being real and not a lie.

"Not a lie," Jellal breathed against Erik's lips, which were still moving against his. "I don't want to lie. Not to you."

Erik grunted.

Then, too quiet for any normal human ears, Jellal groaned, "Erik…"

Even softer, inside the confines of his mind, Jellal thought, _Do I really deserve this?_

"Yes," Erik gasped roughly, "fuck yes, you do."

"Gods," Jellal whimpered.

"There are no gods. Only us." Erik bit Jellal's lip, fascinated by the sounds Jellal made. Scratching his nails under Jellal's shirt had a similar effect. "We make life what we want." _I want…_

 _I want to make it with you, too,_ Jellal thought clearly. _I want to see what this could be like._

Yes.

Erik couldn't help replying tartly, _If you can hear my thoughts, it'll be_ _really_ _interesting._

Jellal broke away to laugh. Seeing a smile on his face filled Erik's reserves, and before he knew it, he was smiling too. Goddamn _grinning._

Jellal changed him. His presence always had: into something better, something closer to what Erik wanted to be. Jellal made him want to be worthy to take care of a broken soul. Jellal made him feel like he could be worthy. Like he was maybe, possible, already enough.


	15. Gender - Reflections (trans,nb)(Stingue)

_When a discrimination incident results in upheaval, Sting is upset about starting life over. Rogue is hopeful. Turns out, Rogue is closer to the truth. (Fic #1 for When We Take Different Paths gender week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = reflections + trans Sting + genderfluid Rogue. Modern AU.

* * *

 **Reflections**

Sting couldn't remember a time when Rogue was not in his life.

Rogue was the balance of reason, the call to peace, the space in which Sting could relax. All his anxieties quieted around them, and he could see again.

He tossed a pebble into the pond and watched the reflection of blue sky ripple. If Rogue was the water, Sting was the disturbing rock.

"Sting?" Rogue called.

He inhaled deeply.

"Here."

They trailed over, pushing aside the tall grasses that lined the water's edge.

"You doing okay?" they asked.

"Yep." He forced his voice to be cheerful. "Just was looking for a place to pee. Then I got distracted."

"The campground has toilets," Rogue snorted.

"Um, yeah, I found them, and the men's have no doors."

"That's awkward."

"Yeah."

Rogue paused. "Tonight, when we brush our teeth, we'll go together."

"Yeah."

They were always protecting him. Always standing tall.

Looking up at them, he tugged their hand. "Sit with me."

While Rogue looked for a dry rock to perch their ass on, Sting returned to his silent vigil of the ripples. They'd almost gone. He dropped another rock in.

The sound was so quiet it was deafening.

"This is nice," Rogue sighed.

"Good choice," Sting said, searching his feet for more pebbles. "You planned a good route."

"I don't mean the campground, I mean the trip. Camping in general."

"It made sense. It's the cheapest choice," Sting murmured.

"Sting."

Sting found a sharp rock and threw it as far as he could.

"You're not feeling guilty, are you?" they asked.

"Nah. Why would I be?" Sting lobbed another stone. "Not like it's my fault there are assholes out there who will fire people indiscriminately. Hah, rather, fire people _discriminately._ "

"Sting."

"Rogue."

Rogue sighed.

Sting had thrown all the pebbles in his vicinity and reached around looking for more, fingers scrabbling and trying not to shake. He didn't notice them moving until something touched his shoulder and he jumped sky high.

"Jesus!"

"I love you," they said, leaning down to kiss his head. "I will go anywhere with you. Even the West Coast."

Straightening, Rogue headed back up the path toward their campsite, leaving Sting unsure whether he wanted to smile or cry or yell at someone.

* * *

"There you are," Rogue said.

Their voice was so smooth—low and soft—and it had always entranced Sting. He wondered what it would sound like if Rogue sang—really sang, not the quiet, embarrassed mumbles of lyrics that were, despite their claims, quite on key and pretty.

"Hey, love." Leaning back, he stretched across the rock he was sitting on, back against the hot stone, and smiled contentedly at them.

Their smile was happy and blushing.

"Of course I'd find out you here," they said, laughing in exasperation. "I searched the whole flat for you first."

"For all that this is a _community_ garden, I swear nobody else comes out here."

"I've seen a few in the early mornings…Miz Felcher, the old lady in ten, prunes the cucumbers and the beans. But not many do. I'm not complaining. More produce for us."

"And you make the best salads," Sting said, suddenly realizing he was hungry. "This place is so peaceful. I love it out here."

"Isn't the water freezing?" they asked, sitting beside him.

He kicked his feet in the little pond. "Nah, it's nice."

Their eyes tracked his movements, contemplative. "That's pretty. Like jewels. Like you're flinging diamonds in the air."

Grinning, Sting watched the droplets arc through the sunlight.

"Oo," he said suddenly. "Fuck, where's my phone. Okay, let's see…"

It took several minutes of fiddling with settings and trying on a couple different of the specialty lenses he kept in his pocket, but he got the shot framed just right and took a series.

"One of those has to turn out," he said, flicking through them briefly.

"I love that you've gotten into photography since we came here. You're really good."

He flushed, putting away his phone and straightening so they sat side-by-side.

"Thanks. It's like reflections of our life, you know? I can look back and see these other versions of ourselves…re-experience the things they experienced. And then share those experiences visually and hopefully make other people feel the same things. Contentment, whatever."

"You definitely do that," Rogue said. Leaning their head on his shoulder, they sighed, "You're my contentment."

Laughing softly, Sting ran a hand through their hair.

"Funny: I could say the same thing."

"You're the deep feeler," Rogue argued. "You're good at emotions. I wasn't near so good at knowing what I was feeling and managing things like anger and sadness before I met you."

"You're the deep thinker," Sting smiled. "You're the one who keeps me from dragging us too far off the cliff of absurdity."

"Just _slightly_ off it."

"Yeah," he laughed. "Just enough to be fun."

He glanced back at the townhouse behind them, the home they'd made over the past year since settling down here. They were only there about half the time, with Rogue's work always sending them on trips. Since they'd always wanted to see the world together, Sting had declared that they shouldn't let normality stop them: he got a low-paying job that let him take off whenever and frittered around the globe with Rogue.

Now their lives were adorned with memories and photos of Germany, Japan, Hong Kong, Pakistan, Bangladesh. Next month they were heading to Madagascar, and Sting, who knew nothing about the country, had raided the library's travel books to learn everything he could. He'd even learned a few words of Malagasy. _Faly mahalala anao?_

It wasn't a usual life by any means, but they were both doing what they loved, and they were doing it together.

And they'd met people because of their lifestyle, too. They needed someone to watch their two cats while they were gone—someone whom they trusted and the cats loved—and had met this lovely pair of lesbians at Sting's job who housesat for them and, when Sting and Rogue were _in_ the country, were some of their closest friends. Yukino, who seemed to know everyone, had introduced them to even more acquaintances, and now they had friends—far more than they'd ever had in their hometown.

It felt so far away from that place, where he and Rogue were glared at with suspicion in their apartment complex, and where Sting's boss looking at his paperwork and noticing the 'F' when Sting looked like and used the bathroom assigned to those who "should" have an 'M' had been able to fire him without references…

"The bad things aren't the end of the story, yeah?" Sting said, gripping their hand and looking over.

"Yeah," Rogue agreed, leaning in to kiss him, then kiss his cheek, and then leaning in further to gently kiss his ear and tug at it with their teeth.

"I love you," Sting whispered. "You know that, right?"

" _Eny,_ " Rogue replied. "Wait, er… _tiako ianao._ "

Sting stared at them with wide eyes. "When did you learn that?"

Rogue grinned.

"I started listening to the Pimsleuer on my commute."

"Not fair! Wait, so that was 'I love you'? How do you say it again?"

Laughing, they kissed his lips again. "You'll just have to catch up. I'm on lesson four."

"We are listening to this while we make dinner," Sting said. "And you'll just have to hear it all again."

"How about you play yahtzee with me in consolation?"

Sting gave a dramatic sigh. He always lost.

"Fiiiine. I'll let you use the torture game on me."

Their delighted laugh eased his heart. This was the life he'd always wanted.


	16. Gender - Family (nb,gq)(Gratsu)

_Natsu prepares to take their datefriend Gray home to meet their family. (Fic #2 for When We Take Different Paths gender week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = family + nonbinary. Modern AU.

Natsu and Gray both use they/them.

* * *

 **Family**

The first time Natsu went home after they began dating was absolutely terrifying.

Natsu had put it off for a while, managed to excuse it with how expensive flights were at Thanksgiving, and going to Lucy's the weekend of their birthday…

But Christmas was the holiday of family, and they had never missed Christmas before.

"Bring this new boyfriend of yours I keep hearing about," their mom said over skype, winking.

"Datefriend, not boyfriend," Natsu sighed, but she just waved a hand as if it weren't important.

Friday at work he'd hardly been able to focus. It was just four days. Four days, and Gray would be there at the house where Natsu grew up, but they'd help each other through it…

But part of Natsu's terror was at Gray's presence: how Gray would feel, if they'd like Natsu's parents, if Natsu's family would be too awful about everything gender-wise to make Gray ever want to spend time with them again. Natsu wouldn't blame Gray for it.

They knew Gray wouldn't break up with them over something like that. But it didn't stop the fear.

Saturday dawned, Gray kissed them awake, and they packed the car.

The three hour drive had never seemed shorter.

"Wait!" Natsu said as they turned into their old neighborhood.

Gray jerked the wheel. "Gah. What?"

"Pull over."

Gray did so, stopping along the icy curb.

"Are you okay?" Gray asked.

Natsu nodded mutely, staring hard at Gray's collar. They wore a plaid button-down and the maroon in it looked good on them, accentuating Gray's dark eyes and brown skin. Natsu wished they could just bed down somewhere the two of them and spend the holiday cuddled under the blankets telling silly stories.

"Are you going to be okay?" Natsu asked softly.

"Yes. I'm prepared." Gray leaned in until Natsu met their eyes. "I still want to meet them."

"They're probably going to call you my boyfriend."

"That's okay. I look pretty masc today and I've been feeling masc lately, so if they use he and him, I'll forgive them. I know they're not used to this stuff. And they're not my family; they don't directly impact my self-worth. To be honest, I'm more worried…about you."

Natsu coughed. "Why?"

"Because you've never come out to them before, right?"

"They think I'm gay," Natsu said, nodding. "A gay dude."

Gray's eyes trailed over their appearance.

"Were you going to…do anything…um…your hair…"

"Do something feminine with it?" Natsu asked, tugging on the boisterous ponytail that hung over their shoulder. "I don't know. I kind of just do what I feel like when I wake up, you know? But I'm afraid being home again will stifle that."

Gray put their hand on Natsu's leg.

"Then we'll deal with that together. We'll wake up together and I'll remind you of you who are however many times you need. And if you need to revert to something else…if that's how you need to be around your family this time, I'll understand. I love you any and all ways."

Natsu let out a tight breath. "Thanks."

"Ready?" Gray asked.

Natsu kissed their cheek. "I am now."

Staring at the road, Gray gave a solemn nod and pulled away from the curb.

"We've got this."

"We've got each other," Natsu said.


	17. Gender - Pronouns (questning)(gay Saber)

_Sting keeps misgendering Min(erva). They don't know how to tell him. (Fic #3 for When We Take Different Paths gender week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = pronouns + gender questioning. Yukinerva, Stingue, Orfus.

* * *

 **Pronouns**

"Miiiiin," Orga called.

"Coming," Min grumbled, putting down the spatula. If they were going to be interrupted a third time, it had better be for a damn good reason.

When they emerged from the guild kitchens, it was to find Rufus and Sting in a verbal sparring match with Rogue egging them on.

"Yes?" Min asked, raising an eyebrow at Orga. "You want me to break this up?"

"No, actually, Sting wanted you. Sting! Yo!"

"And that's not even— Oh, hey, Minerva," Sting said brightly, turning his back on Rufus, who gave him the finger. "I saw that, Rufus."

"Saw what? I don't remember you growing eyes in the back of your head."

"I _remember_ that you always like to end the arguments you lose by flipping people off," Sting said. "For someone who is supposed to have a good memory, you should know that."

Rufus flipped him off with _both_ hands.

"Oh my gods." Min rolled their eyes. "I'm going back to my cooking until you can be mature."

"That'll be in a few decades," Rogue murmured, and Min chuckled in spite of themself.

"Sting, you were going to tell **Min** about that mission?" Orga prompted, grabbing his boyfriend's hands to stop the war of silent communication going on between the pair. Rufus retaliated with something that looked like a half-bite half-kiss to his neck, which was the highest part of Orga he could reach on tiptoe.

"Okay, okay. Minerva," Sting said, not at all picking up on Orga's subtle hint about the name, "I've got a proposition for you."

"Yukino will have something to say to that," Min interjected.

" _I'll_ have something to say about that," Rogue said.

Sting blinked and looked between the two of them. "What?"

"Oh my _gods,_ Sting: a proposition?" Rogue said.

Sting tilted his head in confusion, then, "Oh. Ohhh. Hah. Yeah, not like that," he told Min. "Not that you're not attractive, but Rogue would kill me."

" _Sting Eucliffe—_ "

Sting had to jump over the bar to avoid Rogue's hand aimed at his head, Sting laughing the whole time. He looked up at Min from the floor. "Um. Shall we go in the kitchen? I seem to be the center of trouble."

"You're _causing_ trouble," they snorted, grabbing his arm and dragging him back into their domain. "Okay. Something about a job?"

"Yeah, so— What is that?"

Sting pointed at what hung on the back of the door.

"An apron."

"It's frilly."

"Yes. Yukino likes frilly things. And Yukino cooks in here just like I do."

"But yours isn't frilly."

"I don't like frilly things," Min said, hands on hips. Sting would be the end of their sanity.

"Yeah, I just… Wait, was he calling you _Min?_ "

"Gods, Sting," they sighed, turning their back on him and inspecting the bowl of batter they'd abandoned. "Yes, it's Min now. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah," Sting said obviously. "Why wouldn't I?"

They turned back around to find him leaning on the counter with arms crossed, expression serious and concerned. They forgot sometimes that Sting did in fact have a brain—and a heart: quite a big one.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"What else would there be?"

"Miner—Min," he said, throwing them a look. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

"I don't—whatever. I'd…I'd like for you to stop calling me my lady," they said.

"Done," Sting nodded.

They gripped their shaking hands behind their back. Gods, why was this so hard? They were usually so self-contained, and to lose that countenance here, around _Sting_ of all people, whom they'd practically grown up with…

But hey'd told people this part of themself before. They'd said it, numerous times, and still every time it felt like the truth was strangling them. Like they were asking others to do something awful and disgusting, shame nearly choking Min at having to ask this, daring to insist upon it. Daring to show their vulnerable face.

"Th-They," Min finally stuttered out, breath heaving out of them. "I want you to call me they and them."

"Okay," Sting said, and it couldn't be their imagination that his voice had softened. "For how long?"

"Hm?" they looked up from their attempts not to cry.

"How long have you wanted this? How long have you been…"

"A while."

The kitchen was silent. At rest.

"It started when I came back—when you brought me back to the guild. I…started to feel uncomfortable, and I couldn't tell why. One day I tried s-some…men's clothes. I liked it. I pulled up my hair and wore a hat, and then I started binding, and then it was learning how to walk and…I started doing it a lot.

"It was just for me, until Yukino found out and asked me if I were trans. I didn't know. Because one week I'd like it, and the next I wanted to wear dresses and put on makeup and wear heels. I never knew from one day to the next. I still don't." They paused to catch their breath, dark hair hanging down around their face as they watched the floor. "I don't have a label. Not yet. But Yukino is okay with that.

"Orga found out when I…" Min laughed. "Well, I used the men's toilet once and he was waiting to use it and…but he's been really good about it. Rufus too. I guess he has a cousin who's fluid? I don't know if that's what I am. I can't…I don't…there aren't good words. I just have to," they swallowed, "ask you all to be patient and understanding."

"Of _course_ we will, Min. That's not even in question."

They sniffed silently and heard footsteps. Sting's arms wrapped around them, tight, warm. Min stood stock still for a moment. They were totally not ready for this. But, listening to their heart, they found this was what they needed, what they wanted all along. To be accepted and, more than that, comforted.

They leaned on him, accepting the embrace and wiping their eyes.

"You're always one of us," he said. "You've got the guildmark to prove it, although even without it, we'd count you as our family. Sabertooth is yours. We're here for you. Always, okay? And if you need to ask us to change pronouns or use different words or names, that's fine. Please, anything you need. I'd so much rather do things to make you comfortable than be ignorant and hurt you on accident."

Min had lost the fight against crying, sniffling into his shoulder. He hugged them until they subsided, breaths finally evening out.

"Thanks," they whispered, pulling back.

Sting smiled and nodded. He knew what they meant.

"So," Min wiped their cheeks, "I heard something about a job?"

"Yeah," Sting laughed, rubbing his neck, "although it'll feel a little anticlimactic after all that. Rogue and I encountered a teensy little problem…"

Min smiled, settling into the familiarity of his words.

Sting was family. They should never have doubted him. He would be here through anything.


	18. Gender - Hiding (nb)(Gratsu)

_Natsu has a panic attack. Gray comforts them as best he can, but he knows he can't solve the problem. (Fic #4 for When We Take Different Paths gender week.)_

 **Trigger Warning** for PTSD and panic attacks.

 **A/N:** Prompt = masks/hiding + genderqueer. Gratsu.

* * *

 **Hiding**

They had only been home for ten minutes—Natsu was still wearing their boots and Gray had just put away the coats—when it inevitably came.

"That…totally freaked me out," Natsu said, teeth chattering.

"I'm so sorry. If I'd been able to anticipate… One of your triggers. I'm so sorry, darling."

"It's…" Natsu's head bowed.

Gray watched his partner dissolve.

"I…I just…" Natsu shook, arms pulled in close to their chest, and took a step back from Gray. Their back hit the kitchen counter. "I want to hide away, never deal with any of it, never been seen, never see—never be triggered. No one could ever get to me, ever, and it would be safe, and nobody…nobody—"

"It's okay, love," Gray said, reaching out a hand, though he didn't move closer. "Totally okay to feel that way."

"I _hate_ it," Natsu said. "A-Always…"

They slid down the cabinetry to the floor, muffling their crying behind their hands. As their breathing began to come in bigger and bigger gasps, Gray crouched down across from them, hands shaking.

"Fuck. _Fuck._ A-And they just…it…f-fuck."

"Mmm. Shh," Gray soothed. "It's alright. I'm here."

"So sh-shitty. Just because…" Natsu gasped on their next inhale, breaths turning quick and shallow. When they lifted their head, their face was flushed and pale at the same time, blotchy with fear and emotion, and very wet.

Natsu trembled, fingers curled like claws. It terrified Gray to see them this way, even while at the same time he understood. It ached in the deepest parts of him, wanting to be significant, wanting to be _there_ in the place where Natsu was in their mind.

Natsu's sobs were swallowed hiccoughs, always trying to mask it. As if being strong meant not crying.

"Natsu…" Gray's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Can I hold you?"

Natsu's only answer was to cry harder.

The tile floor where the pair sat felt cold, ice leeching up into them. It was so quiet in the house and yet so loud, full of Natsu's pain.

"Natsu, I would like to… I'm shifting closer, okay? Can I touch you? Can I put my hand on your arm?"

As Gray eased himself infinitesimally across the floor, Natsu gave a gruff nod, face still hidden in their knees. They were curled in a tight ball, and Gray put his sweaty palm on their elbow, fingers grazing down their arm. Gray hoped the trembling in his body wasn't being communicated through his touch. He wanted to be steady.

When he reached their hand, Natsu snatched at him, intertwining their fingers. It was sharp and hard and aching, and Gray didn't mind in the slightest. It was alive. It was the two of them, together. It didn't matter if it hurt.

"Need anything?" Gray asked after a while. "Can I do anything?"

Natsu's breaths had begun to calm, so that their words came out thick and sluggish. "You can… Can you hold me? Please, I just need…"

" _Yes,_ " Gray said, wrapping his arms gratefully around Natsu. "Gods, yes, I want to hold you."

Natsu tensed, shutting their eyes against another flood of tears. They shook apart in his arms while Gray held on for all he could.

He knew they were crying because of him, could feel Natsu's tears responding to the way he squeezed them.

Being loved hurt sometimes. Gray understood that. It hurt to be loved so much when you were so scared, when you didn't think you deserved to be taken care of. It hurt when you didn't want to trust someone, yet wanted to lean on them all the same. Some hurts were okay.

"Are we safe?" they whispered.

"Yes," Gray said. "We're at home in our house, alone. I'm here. They're not. It's just us."

Natsu leaned against him, putting their head beneath Gray's chin and curling into Gray's body heat.

"I just think about," Natsu sniffed, "will I ever get better?"

"What is 'better'? Why does better matter?"

"Because what I'm feeling _sucks_ and I'd like not to feel this shitty anymore."

Gray nuzzled their hair. "Fair enough."

Natsu hiccoughed.

"Fuck, I'm so sweaty. I feel cold," they murmured.

"Let's get you in warmer clothes, yeah?"

He helped them up and the pair of them wobbled to the bedroom, where Natsu stared blankly at the wall while taking off their jeans. Gray stripped quickly, not wanting it to just be Natsu alone, and saw when Natsu's fingers twitched at the edge of their shirt.

There were dark spots from the sweat, and they were shivering.

"C'mere, love," he said, pulling them into his embrace while he eased their shirt off. "Damn, you're binding. That can't be good for your breathing."

"Did…make it kinda hard to cry…" Natsu murmured, quavery.

When you were heaving with sobs…

"We need to take this off," Gray said, but he wasn't about to do it unless they asked.

Nodding, they exhaled and squeezed it over their head. Gray took it from their shaking hands and tossed it on the pile of clothes as he pulled them against his chest.

They hunched but glommed on, skin damp and clammy.

"Shower?" he asked.

"I just want to cuddle right now," Natsu said wearily.

So they dressed in sweats, awkwardly because Natsu stayed against their body the whole time, but it was kind of nice. And a little funny, if it weren't for the context. Natsu pulled a tanktop over their breasts and inhaled deeply, and Gray knew they felt freer just from that much enclosure.

"You look lovely, by the way," he said, brushing pink-dyed hair off their forehead. "Sorry. Bad timing."

They gave him a wan smile.

"It's okay. I like hearing you say it."

Together they meandered out to the sofa and sank down, Natsu wrapping their arms around Gray's waist and tilting him sideways. The pair nestled comfortably lengthwise, and Natsu played distractedly with Gray's lips, fingertips light on his skin, gaze faraway.

"You know I love you," Gray murmured.

"Yeah. I love you back."

"I say it all the time, but I don't mean it any less."

They smiled.

The minutes ticked by in golden silence, Gray's senses landing on nothing but the motes of dust and the soft rhythm of Natsu's breathing.

When Gray looked over, they'd closed their eyes, and he realized, watching their lashes flutter, that they'd drifted off.

Panic attacks were exhausting. Gray knew that from personal experience.

He hated that it had happened, to both of them, but…the fact that they'd found each other after, could understand each other—that was…really nice. To have someone who was there with him, and whom he could be there for in return.

It meant that even in the darkness, there was a sense of warmth.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm known for writing Gray dealing with trauma, but this story went another direction and they both have PTSD and Natsu's the one having a panic attack… I don't know. I just felt it strongly and I'm not sure why. But I love these darlings. And if you've been through that too, I understand you and I stand with you. xo


	19. Gender - Clothes (fluid)(fraxus)

_Freed is having a femme day, but nothing is working. When Laxus comes home and Freed isn't even dressed, Freed is ready to scream. (Fic #5 for When We Take Different Paths gender identity week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = clothes + genderfluid. Fraxus. **Explicit.**

For splendidlyimperfect, for all the things we both believe in. xoxox

* * *

 **Clothes**

Freed grabbed the role of tape more roughly than she should've and nearly sent it flying. Some of her hair caught in her mouth and she spat it out with a growl.

Fucking day.

First she'd been late to the office—not her fault, the bus had broken down. Freed was _never_ late. Then she'd arrived to find someone had completely messed up her desk—papers disorganized, keyboard askew, her minis knocked over.

After an hour of arguing with a researcher in another field who couldn't understand why phonetic modeling _couldn't work that way and you claim to be an expert in your field, god, Justine, is there anyone else I cant talk to?_ …she went to the bathroom to cry, but stopped halfway down the hall, remembering her… _limited_ options. She furiously trudged down two floors to the gender-neutral restroom; head in her hands, she went to text Laxus and found she'd left her phone at her desk.

Stupid, stupid day.

Now her suitpants and dress shirt had been angrily hanged (hanged not hung, after her tie tried to strangle her), she'd put on her favorite bra, and she was trying, _trying_ to bind the stupidest part of her anatomy today into submission.

But this day would not submit. It was a cursed Thursday.

"I'm home," Laxus called, front door creaking. She inhaled, wanting both to run into his arms and hide until she felt better.

"I'm…in back," she said after a few moments. She put on a bathrobe and began attempting the knots in her hair.

When Laxus appeared, he gave her a weary but happy smile.

"Hey, love," he said, leaning in the doorframe.

"Hi." She walked over. Before he could speak, she asked, "How was your day?"

"Alright," he hummed, sliding his fingers through her hair (she blushed). "Long. I heard the bus grid went down."

She looked down at the comb in her hands.

"Yeah. Every single one stopped for about thirty minutes. I was late."

"They switch to electric transit and this is what happens…"

"It's better for the environment," she scolded.

"I know," he sighed. "All things break and it always sucks. Remember when oil prices spiked and the city couldn't afford the gas, so they stopped running half the lines?"

"Vaguely. I was eleven," she laughed, leaning up to kiss his nose.

"Oh. Yeah." He reddened. "I forget because you're so fucking smart. Nineties child."

"Nineteen-ninety!" Freed protested. "I remember the entire decade, thank you very much."

"You missed out on shoulder pads and tall hair," Laxus said. "You were lucky."

"Oh, hah. Stop being old."

This got a grunt and a chuckle out of him. She kissed his chin and put her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Finally she felt a modicum of rest.

"You look nice," he said, words rumbling against her ear as he ran his hands up and down her arms.

"I do?"

"C'mon. You always look good, plus you look like you're ready to be lazy, which I really want to join in."

Freed laughed against him. Laxus kept rubbing her back. Up and down. Soothing.

Those hands eventually migrated to her neck, easing over the muscles, kneading and squeezing and making her groan quietly. She hadn't realized she was so tense. He ran his fingers up the base of her skull gently.

"What did you _do?_ " Laxus asked.

"Mm, gods." Freed murmured. "You're going to turn me into putty."

Laxus's other fingers ran inside her collar to press on the joints of her shoulders, thumb sliding over her collarbone. Gradual and smooth. When his hand moved a little further to get more of her shoulders, his fingers slipped under the strap of her bra and ran along it.

"Is this—?"

"Yeah," she said, inhaling deeply. "It was a bad day. I wanted to be pretty."

"And you are," he said, lips against her forehead.

She leaned into his hands, now both inside her robe to rub her shoulders. He slipped the straps of the bra down carefully, thumbs brushing along the top of her chest. It soothed the tension, and was also just close enough to make her feel…close. Intimate. A suggestion she wasn't sure was purposeful.

Then the lower parts of her body made themselves known and she remembered. Remembered that the tape hadn't worked and her dick hadn't cooperated and nothing was right in her body. How could she be beautiful when she was like this, when it was all wrong, when it—

"Freed?" Laxus asked, coming into her line of vision with a frown. She'd started to pull away from him. "Sorry, did that hurt?"

"No, no…" She rubbed her shoulder, chin jerking down in an automatic reaction to hide.

Watching her, he reached for her hand and loosely entwined their fingers.

"I— I just," she gasped, "couldn't tuck today."

"Oh…" Laxus said.

 _And now it's impossible to tuck. And what you're doing feels good. But my body doesn't._

"Can we cook together?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yeah. That sounds nice."

She wandered into the kitchen and Laxus entered a minute later in boxers and a T-shirt.

"I was thinking pancakes," he said. "I know it's dinner…"

"Whoever said pancakes can't be for dinner?"

Laxus hummed while they cooked, standing side by side with Laxus handling the batter and Freed making bacon.

These sorts of things always settled calm in Freed's heart. It made the rest of the day fade into inconsequence: the shit didn't matter because shit was transient. This was also transient, but in a different way: it was one moment on a long timeline of captured beauty.

Filling their plates, they bypassed the table and settled on the sofa together, Freed putting her feet in his lap while she dipped her bacon in syrup. They recounted stories, the latest news or scientific tidbits from Twitter or the radio, and laughed at silly things.

When Freed put down her empty plate, her robe opened a bit, and a wave of insecurity came crashing back in.

"What do you feel like tonight?" Laxus asked, stretching. She saw his eye fall on his library book: some YA series Evergreen recommended which had captivated his interest.

"Reading does sound nice," she admitted. She rose. "I'll be right back."

"Still reading the Chomski versus Lakoff book?" he asked, grinning.

She'd been taking copious notes, enjoying the arguments between the two most famous linguists. Laxus found it hilarious how passionate she got at the book sometimes.

Once in the bedroom, she grabbed a pleasure read from the bedside table instead—something light was better—and then went to the bathroom for her true goal.

The tape still lay on the counter. She glared at it distrustfully. _Behave this time. Please?_

Closing her eyes, she took her robe off and hung it on the door. When she looked in the mirror with some trepidation, her eyes first fell on the bra and that cheered her up, because she looked good and it felt right today. This particular garment had never failed to make her feel more _her._

Her work clothes had slight variations between _her,_ _him,_ and _other_ days; but at home, she could go further in expressing herself.

And in feeling like herself. This bra was elegant and soft. It held her skin in such a way that she felt complete. It meant when people saw her and talked to her and interacted with her, they were interacting with _her;_ when Laxus touched her, it was her body he touched and fantasized about.

Staring at her reflection and thinking about Laxus's hands had raised a…slight problem. Freed squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, "Think unsexy thoughts, dammit. Unsexy thoughts."

Tucking only worked if she were soft.

But trying _not_ to think about how her body felt around Laxus only made her body feel it more.

She groaned and leaned her head against the doorframe.

"Did you lose your book?" Laxus called.

"No." She shook her head at the mirror. Well, she did own underwear that looked femme and didn't require tucking. Soft, with detailing around the hips. It was…closer. It would have to be close enough.

When she emerged again, now in a loose shirt and shorts, she felt slightly better. It was a lounging evening. Nobody would see her except Laxus, and he had a way of seeing her exactly as she was.

Lounging didn't require her to feel perfect in her body.

Cracking open her book, she thumped down at Laxus's side and leaned her back against his arm. He hummed and kissed her hair.

It was lovely like that.

Time slipped by with only the shuffle of pages and the occasional chuckle or consternated humph.

"Idiot," Laxus burst out at one point. "You've tried that before. Don't do it."

"What?"

"She's trying to kiss this other boy to change the nature of the future," Laxus groaned. "Don't kiss people you aren't in love with. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's gay."

"Why does she want to change the future?"

"Someone she knows is going to die—the person she _actually_ loves."

Freed's eyes widened. "Okay, now I'm intrigued."

"You can't read it until I'm done," Laxus pouted. "I hate when your bookmark inevitably passes mine."

"Fine," she laughed.

Smiling, Laxus tilted his head against hers so that she was tucked under his chin. "I like you."

"I like you, too," she said, reaching behind her head to rub his neck.

Laxus's breathing changed, deeper and fresher. For some perfect seconds, they sat just like that, touching and being touched. Laxus's hand came up to her hip and smoothed across the exposed skin there. Just back and forth. No suggestion: Laxus was not a person with high physical needs.

But Freed had needs. Laxus had definitely started something earlier with looking so damn handsome and massaging her shoulders and sliding off the straps of her bra and making her think…

"Laxus?"

"Mm?"

Twisting around, she kissed him slowly. Laxus's mouth moved against her, movements thick, soaking it in.

When she tipped the edge of her tongue into his mouth, his breathing went shallow.

Laxus put his hands on her hips and shifted her so she was straddling his legs. They kept kissing like that, hands in each other's hair and on each other's necks. Freed moved to suck down his throat, tugging with her lips, raising red marks with her teeth.

Laxus let out a happy noise.

When she reached his chest, it struck her that her body didn't have to be involved in this. That they could still come together and it could be fun in a different way.

Rubbing a hand over the bulge in his trousers, she watched him arch back with his lips parted, panting. She slid toward the floor.

Laxus's hands, which had been on her hips, shifted down to her ass and drew her back.

"Come here," he murmured. "I want to devour you."

She frowned, unsure what he meant by that. Unsure what part of her he planned to devour.

He drew her right up against him and pressed his mouth to the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Opening his jaw wide, he laved at her, biting down on the taut skin. Freed let out a groan as his grip drew harder and harder. Her stomach fluttered, the feelings soaring back through her body and refusing this time to be ignored.

He wanted her so much. He wanted her. And she wanted him. And…

"L-Laxus, wait," she whispered. Her voice wobbled and was barely loud enough to hear.

It took him a moment to register and pull back.

"I'm…I can't…" She growled at her inability to express the compressed feelings in her chest. "I'm not free. I'm not…"

"Let's set you free, then."

"No, it's not—I want you, I do; but I don't think…"

Leaning his head against hers, he drew his nose across her cheek gently.

"You're beautiful," he breathed. "You deserve this."

Something wrenched in her heart, twisting, painful. It nearly made her cry. He'd found it the thing holding her back.

"I'm n-not sure…"

"Fuck, you're so pretty," Laxus said, sitting back. He was still breathing raggedly, but the lust had cleared from his eyes and instead he was scrutinizing her, telling her the truth. "I come home sometimes and I'm just breathless. I forget the details. The way you smile and the way you think and the way you move…gods. I love it. I could stare at you always."

But. _But you're gay,_ she wanted to say. _You love me because I have_ _this_ _body._

"Is it…" She stumbled, trying to find the words. "Do you like me for being masc?"

"This isn't going to make sense, but I kinda find you attractive…beyond gender. You're sometimes masc and sometimes femme and sometimes I don't even know, but I like all of it? Does that make sense? These are all facets of you, and I love you in all those facets. It's like," he went on, seeing her about to interrupt, "how I like you when you're geeking out over your job and I like you when you're so tired you act drunk. Different things, right? But both still you, and I like both."

"That does actually make sense," she said quietly.

But, but, but. Her doubts clung to her. After all, if she were ugly and misshapen and unfit, then how could she experience this? How could it be real?

"I'm sorry for being off."

"It's okay. Doesn't change things for me. Even when you can't make shit work for you, you're still you to me. And you're still really attractive, too."

* * *

Laxus watched her ponder this. Freed's face always screwed up a certain way when she was thinking, deciding, weighing facts and statements. He loved it.

He ran his hand up her thigh as she thought. Her mouth was slightly red from kissing him, and a lock of hair had fallen forward in front of her eye. The glass one, so he knew it didn't obscure her vision, but he still reached up and carefully pulled it behind her ear. He was careful with his touch; she wasn't fragile, but he didn't like his own clumsiness. He always felt his hands were too big.

"Laxus," she murmured, drawing out his name as she leaned her face against his hand.

He cradled her cheek. She was unearthly gorgeous.

Body and soul. The different parts of her body she emphasized on different days always mesmerized him. Whether Freed wore high-heeled boots and a crop top and a smirk, or dressed in tailored suit with hair up and his shoulders so fucking sharp, or like now—wearing a thin tanktop and the black bra under it which rounded her out, the way her hips gyrated slightly as she sought friction. The flexing muscles in her arms, the black around her eyes. All of her.

Fuck.

Freed took his hand and drew it up her thigh, brushing under the edge of her shorts. There was still deep consideration in her eyes, not meeting his and instead staring fixedly at his chest.

"You're very handsome," she murmured, turning pink—Freed had never been able to compliment him without blushing. Laxus secretly thought it was sweet.

His palms brushed higher, over her hips. He was staring down at her legs, and so missed the consternated expression that flitted across her face.

"You're very nicely put together," he said. "You have a nice shape."

He expected her to laugh—it sounded weird even to him, though it was honest—but when this did not happen, he glanced up.

Freed gazed at him as if he were magic.

"Thank you," she murmured.

As they stared at each other, she took his hands and led him to continue up the contour of her body, sliding slowly up her waist and ribs before he drew her carefully against his chest. She leaned her forehead against his and sighed.

It sounded contented.

"Do you…?" he asked, tentative, afraid how much it would turn him on to say the words.

"Yes," she said.

Laxus squeezed her ass and pressed the pair of them together.

Freed gasped and Laxus joined her, both of them groaning at the pressure between them. Before Laxus had recovered, Freed thrust forward again, hard against hard, and Laxus felt his entire being focus downward, on how exultant she could make him. He kissed down her neck again, little nibbles that had her breaking out in shivers.

"I love you," he said, over and over, "gods, I love you."

* * *

"I love you—b-back," Freed panted, and she meant it.

The way his fingers curled around her made her feel rounded and hold-able and not like she was missing things. She was comfortable in his touch—starting to feel what he'd said: she was beautiful.

Maybe, just maybe…

He pushed her shirt to the side exposing her shoulder, as his lips went further and further. Sideways across the tendons that came down from her neck. The bra strap went too, her shoulder now bare, and his teeth took full advantage, digging in while his tongue explored her and he sucked hickies into her skin.

She was thrusting down against him in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. This was better, both for them to last longer and because it felt good without being quite so focused on her dick. It meant she could focus on what her fingers were doing, slipping into the front of his waistband and petting through the hair there. Reaching down but not as far as he wanted, his hips jerking up trying to meet her.

She smiled. Her head was bowed so she could kiss his hair and smell his scent, watch his lips ravage her collarbone.

Freed's shoulders were completely bare now, garments pulled down enough to expose quite a bit of her chest. She soaked this in, eyes closed. There were his lips on her sternum, her skin left open for him but not quite all the way. That holding back—there was something about that she loved. The desperation it engendered in both of them.

And she could imagine that she had the body she wanted, and nothing broke the fantasy.

One of her hands slipped down the back of her shorts to start fingering herself.

Laxus's fingers were desperate on Freed's shoulders, nails dragging along the edge of cloth, and as his mouth reached the edge of her shirt, one finger snuck in and pulled at her nipple.

Freed gasped and pressed against him.

He did it again, tugging and twisting. She shifted just enough to nudge her bra down on that side, and suddenly she was out in the open and Laxus's lips were on her.

Fuck. The way he licked her, she forgot all her insecurities: there was no room for thought. When he pulled at her nipple with his teeth, then sucked it tall, she cried out. The eagerness rising in her body made her thrust her fingers into herself suddenly, and the jolt, rather than being painful, made her desperate. Her entrance so tight, so stretched, so full.

One of Laxus's hands was still on her hip, teasing up the skin and fingers wrapping around to draw along the muscles of her thigh. That hand moved further back and discovered what she was doing to herself.

Laxus's mouth disengaged from her chest and his eyes shot up to meet hers.

"Fuck," he whimpered.

Freed leaned until her lips touched his ear.

"Take me into your bed."

She wrapped her legs around him as he stood, and he carried her to the bedroom, both of them panting and groaning, and Freed enjoying the greater space she had in his trousers now. She reached in far enough to touch the base of his cock, and Laxus nearly dropped her.

He laid her back on the bed and leaned to crawl on top of her, but she used her legs to flip him and end up straddling his chest. Watching his wide eyes, she stripped her bottom half right there on top of him and sat back down on his chest, balls touching his abdomen.

"Almost ready," she murmured, eyes closing as she reached back toward her ass again, but Laxus caught her wrist in one hand.

With the other, he slid his fingers down her crack and played with her skin, eyebrow rising as he asked, "Lube?"

"Sure." She'd need it particularly now.

People with vaginas often needed lube too. This did not make her less herself.

He reached over and grabbed the bottle from the nightstand, then returned his fingers to her ass as Freed closed her eyes. He entered one finger at a time, her breath held, his chest rising and falling beneath her. Freed thought about him fucking her, thought about his cock making her full, thought about squeezing him so tight he fell apart inside her. In her body, she had the power. Inside her, he was at her mercy, and she was in control.

Her tanktop had slipped up a little and she stripped it off but left the bra on, straps dangling down her arms. There was something desperate and cuddly about that, especially when a groaning Laxus stripped out of his shirt and trousers and she was able to lean down over him and feel his skin warm against hers.

His cock tapped her ass cheek and she realized how hard and turned on he was.

The way she loved making him.

She grabbed hold of him in one hand, giving a few fast strokes that had him whining and twisting and scrunching his face in pleasure, then led him up and pressed his head in.

It was wide, and tight, and it felt like everything she needed.

"Laxus," she hissed. "Fuck, the rest of the way, inside—inside."

They moved together, Laxus sliding in and Freed taking him, holding him, laying siege to him.

Whatever else could be said for it, it was her body. Through it, she could feel a thousand wonders, and right now, one of those wonders was Laxus Dreyar's cock pulsing inside her.

She moved forward and back. Laxus slid out and back into her.

"Fuck," Laxus hissed, throwing his head back as she thrust again, again.

She'd had to strip her bottom half completely for this, but with her eyes closed and mind on the pleasure she got from what they were doing, she could wrap her fingers around herself and not feel out of place. She had a sort of distance from her own cock: it was like jacking Laxus off, like when she pushed him against the wall and hand-fucked him until his legs wouldn't hold him anymore.

Laxus's hands came up to her chest and he squeezed either side of the bra. Freed felt his touch through the material and loved it. What tits she had were sexy like this. They were enough. She was enough.

Her body was attractive to him.

She twisted her fingers around the head of her cock and felt how that sent pleasure rushing through her. Sitting up, she lifted herself up to fuck down on him, feeling him slide in and out of her body with ease.

"Fuck me," she groaned.

"I am," he said, grinning.

"I'm fucking myself on you," she corrected, giving him a mischievous eyebrow. "I'm the one doing the fucking here, Mr Dreyar."

"Ms Justine. You're damn fucking good at it," Laxus managed, eyes squeezing tight when another thrust delivered desired sensations to both of them.

"You fill me," she said. "It feels like…like there's a hole in me that's filled."

"There _is_ a—"

"I'm trying to be poetic," she growled, leaning down and taking his mouth in a harsh kiss. She overwhelmed his tongue with her own, and when he parted his lips to mouth at her, she thrust in and bit his lip.

"I want to be…your girl," she said.

"You _are_ my—jesus christ—my girl. You're my everything."

Freed panted as Laxus thrust up.

"Fuck, Laxus," she groaned. "Holy fuck…"

"Freed," he murmured against her skin. "Freed…"

His warm hands cradled her skin as he pulled her against his chest. His hips tilted to enter her and Freed let out a cry, letting go.

The pleasure melted through her, warm and soft and buttery. It infused her being, as the tension that had been building since he first touched her released in a satisfied wave.

"Fuuuuck," she moaned, pace slowing as she humped through several final thrusts.

She stilled for a moment, feeling him still inside her.

"Did you just come?" Laxus asked.

"Yeah," she chuckled, out of breath. She understood his question: it was the other kind of pleasure and so she was still hard. But that stiffness would fade, and she didn't feel like doing anything particular about it.

She lay her head wearily on his chest.

"Want to take over on top?" she asked.

Laxus shifted, easing out of her, and to her surprise, he exited completely and slumped back.

"I'm good actually," he said, a contented smile on his face.

"You sure?"

"That felt good," he nodded. "I really liked that. Thank you."

She hummed and slid off of him into the bed. It was a little early for sleep, but the sky outside was dark and sleep sounded good after how emotionally taxing the day had been.

"Lights, but…I don't feel like getting up," Laxus laughed.

"I'll do it." She kissed his cheek and turned off the lights before returning to the bed. Only limping a little—good things were worth a little soreness.

"Freed?" Laxus asked tentatively. "Would you, um…be okay with cuddling?"

"Of course," she said in surprise. Rolling up against his arm, she laid her hand on his chest and felt it rise and fall. "Is someone in need of a hug this evening?"

She could practically hear him blushing. "…Yeah."

"Laxus," she whispered, squeezing him tightly. "You are a wonderful human being and I love you very much."

"Mm. You're amazing."

Freed smiled. "Sleep well."

"You, too."

"Mm, after that? I definitely will."

There were a few seconds of silence when Laxus's chest rose.

"Freed?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you feel okay?"

She blinked into the darkness.

"I feel alright," she said, knowing some of the insecurity remained, but much of the anxiety had been stripped from it. "I feel like you really, really love me."

"That's the truth," he said, and burrowed down into her embrace.

* * *

 **A/N:** I totally did not expect this to end in smut, lol. This morning I had a hankering for Fraxus smut, and there's not a lot, and it feels like I've read all the good stuff so many times… So when there's a need, make it yourself, right? ;P


	20. Gender - Intimacy (gq)(Midnight)

_Midnight can't join in the lively discussion of relationships. They just aren't built that way. (Fic #6 for When We Take Different Paths gender week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = intimacy + genderqueer/asexual.

Sequel to #14 "Memories" (Jerik).

While I know it's gender week, enbies have "nontraditional" sexualities just like cis people, and so that's what this is about.

* * *

 **Intimacy**

Midnight watched them over the campfire.

The rest of the guild were having a raucous time teasing Jellal and Erik. Mostly Jellal, because he was more fun to tease, although Erik's ears turned pink easily and he had a way of sulking that couldn't mask his happiness.

Erik, happy.

Pigs flying.

They found it difficult to join in the conversation, watching as Sawyer and Sorano ganged up and tried to get the couple to kiss, getting a stammering scowl from Jellal and a death glare from Erik. This was not Midnight's arena. They were not good at contributing to these types of things.

They looked away from the fire into the dark of the woods. Sometimes, being surrounded by people was lonely.

"Hey you," Melody said cheerfully, poking their arm.

Grunting, they feigned a smile.

They'd tried the dating thing and…suffice it to say, it hadn't turned out well.

Midnight simply wasn't into people like that. Not on a sexual level. They'd had intense connections with people, sure, but always of the emotional kind. When their partner asked if Midnight found them attractive, the answer was always that they didn't feel things like that.

Nobody believed them.

Erik sat down heavily at their side.

"What?" Midnight asked, blinking.

"Yeah," Erik said.

Midnight tried to remember what they'd been thinking. "Feeling…attraction?"

"Yeah, that."

"You don't either?"

"I do. But only with specific people."

"Like Jellal," they said.

Erik blushed. "Yeah. Of course like him."

"But you don't find random strangers attractive? Aren't looking around thinking about all the hotties?"

"Nope. People never interested me."

Midnight snorted, a smile trailing up their mouth.

Erik smiled back.

 _Thanks,_ they thought. He was good at cheering people up.

"No, I'm not," Erik grumbled. "You're just easy to cheer."

"Well, thanks anyway."

"…for the longest time, we all thought you were…well, straight," Sorano said, looking at Jellal.

"Yeah," Melody put in. "When did that change?"

"Oh dear," Erik said quietly, rolling his eyes. "Here it comes."

"It didn't change," Jellal scoffed. "I've always been attracted to—um, to men."

"But what about Erza?" Melody asked.

Jellal turned a shade of pink that was visible even in the orange firelight.

"That was a special circumstance."

"She's a woman."

"She's…there were other things to that situation. And she's the reason I _know_ I'm gay."

"Why on earth would you date someone you don't find attractive?" Sorano snapped. Her tone was so harsh that everyone looked at her. "What?"

"I know you're upset about—"

"Don't say their name, Richard," she snarled.

"In answer," Jellal said, overriding the others, "I didn't _know_ I didn't find her attractive. I didn't know what attraction was supposed to feel like. Not like that, apparently. I just…couldn't."

"He's being awfully forthcoming," Midnight murmured to Erik.

Erik grinned. "He's had two cups of sake."

"Only two?"

Erik's teeth were razor-sharp.

"Jellal doesn't normally drink."

"You bastard," Midnight said affectionately. "You wanted him to get all sappy."

Erik shrugged. "Nothing wrong with wanting that."

* * *

When everything quieted down, Midnight shifted around until their bedroll was next to Richard's.

"Hello," Richard whispered, genial like always.

"Hey."

"Did you see the stars?" he asked, staring up. "I will never get used to this. Love spread across the sky in twinkling form."

Midnight smiled and stared up too. "Yeah. It is nice."

They both exhaled. Midnight inched closer.

Richard shifted his blanket across the rocky ground until they were side-by-side, shoulders touching. He didn't ask, didn't comment, and didn't react. Just let Midnight put their hand next to his and finally begin to relax.

"Are you ever lonely?" Midnight asked. They knew it was a revealing question to their own state of mind, but they didn't care. The night was beautiful and full.

"No," Richard said simply. "I'm not. I have my guildmates and my lifelong friends. I have my brother's letters. I have the friendly people we encounter in towns and villages."

"You're not about to start dating too?" Midnight teased.

"No, I don't feel that way."

 _Oh really._ They looked over. "You seem awfully into romance. It's the only thing you read."

"Just because I like reading it doesn't mean I feel it myself. I don't want a relationship like Erik, but I like when people inject the world with more beauty by falling in love and caring for another person. In the same way that I don't like that woman we met last week, but I respect her pacifist views."

"Fair enough."

Midnight sighed.

"You're lonely?"

"No…" they said, drawing the word out slowly. "I don't want to have to take care of one person. I don't want to—egkh, I don't even want to _think_ about making out with someone; sounds disgusting. Mouths have so many germs and diseases."

"Here here."

"So I guess I'm like you. I've got my guildmates." They smiled into the dark.

"Do you ever think it would be nice to have someone to cuddle with?" Richard asked.

"I…" They knew he was asking because he knew. "It doesn't have to be _someone;_ it can be anyone. I just don't like not getting to touch anyone. It's so…"

"Cut off?"

"Yeah. I feel lonely even though I'm not lonely. But you have to have a relationship in order to get cuddling, and it's just not worth the price."

"Melody likes to cuddle," Richard offered. "She cuddles with you a lot. With everyone."

"Yeah. I really like that."

They fell silent, but it wasn't for a lack of words. There were too many things. Too many to say. All of them were too important and not important enough.

"You know you can always ask, right?" Richard asked. "You can ask for hugs or whatever. I like giving hugs. Melody likes giving hugs. Probably everyone except Sorano would give you one, and only Erik would vocally complain about it."

"Yeah." Their throat was tight. "I just… It's more than just a hug. I want too much. You're not supposed to fall asleep in someone's arms unless they're your mate. You're not—"

Richard rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm over them.

"That's not true," he murmured from somewhere above their head. "Anyone can cuddle and fall asleep together. Especially if they're friends, but not even that is required."

Midnight gave a little laugh, but it held relief, and their muscles finally relaxed out of their death grip and they were able to lean into his arm a little.

"Thanks," they said, curling around closer until they were comfortable. "Is this okay?"

"Yes."

"Can I…fall asleep?"

"I plan to."

Midnight closed their eyes and smiled.

Maybe not everyone was like them. Maybe not everyone understood. But they had friends who did, and friends who were willing to humor them even if they didn't understand—Richard was right, any one of their guildmates would offer a hug if it were requested.

Maybe they just needed to learn how to ask.

It was so hard to admit to needing something from people. But the end results were always so pleasant.

They just needed to learn to stop being ashamed.


	21. Gender - Transition (trans)(Kagerza)

_Kagura and Erza wake up to a fright. Erza reflects on how this feels inside her body. (Fic #7 for When We Take Different Paths gender week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = transition + trans. Kagerza.

* * *

 **Transition**

A raucous noise made Erza sit straight up in bed from a dead sleep.

"What the—" Kagura was beside her looking bleery-eyed and holding a sword.

"Put that away, darling," Erza said gently, taking the blade from her. "I think it was that hawk that's been hanging around the neighborhood. Go back to sleep."

"Easier said than done," Kagura mumbled, burrowing into Erza's embrace. Erza happily wrapped Kagura in her arms, Kagura's back rising and falling against Erza's chest in a steady rhythm.

Despite Kagura's words, the woman was asleep almost immediately.

Erza stayed awake, her heart beating behind her breasts. It was still a strange sensation to her three years after surgery, feeling the quiver of her pulse in the flesh of her chest. She wasn't scared often so it wasn't a frequent feeling, but when adrenaline shot through her, it fascinated her. Made her more aware of her body.

Drawing her girlfriend close, she listened to the sounds outside the window and felt her heart calm. It was the same heart inside her ribs, a heart that had seen a lot of change in this body. A heart which had learned how to beat in happiness thanks to all the friends who surrounded her and helped her to become herself.

When Kagura grunted and kicked a little in her sleep, Erza kissed her ear.

"I love you," she whispered.


	22. Sexuality - Pride (alt fam)(Erz,Gr,Na)

_Gray, Natsu, and Erza have something more than friendship between them, but it's not a romantic relationship either. (Fic #1 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = pride + alternative family styles. Grayzatsu-ish? Alternate canon universe.

* * *

 **Pride**

Erza, Natsu, and Gray were always together. Sure, they fought a lot, but it was the kind of fighting you did with those you loved, not those you hated. The bickering, annoyed, I-have-to-put-up-with-you-so-damn-well-compromise-with-me-here kind.

To be fair, they spent more time _not_ arguing than arguing. That was something.

None of them ever slept alone at home. Which, since there were three of them, usually meant a threesome dog pile at someone's house. They slept better that way.

Erza eventually got too many warnings for sneaking the boys into her room and left Fairy Hills to move in with Natsu. Gray stubbornly held onto his own place, saying he needed space, and the other two humored him. Gray did the most internalizing of the three of them, and that often meant he was the most quiet. Erza had learned, thanks to the other two's constant questions, to talk her feelings out, and Natsu had always been one to punch his feelings out. They were working on getting Gray to be healthier.

When Lucy joined their team, she put up with them with rolled eyes and teasing jokes, but soon she was used to it, the way Erza would come to her house and pile into her bed if the boys were off on a mission, the way Natsu came and ate all her food if he was feeling lonely, because he just couldn't stand to be anywhere by himself. The way you just could not get Gray on his own without Natsu, Erza, or both with him.

Erza and Lucy dated for a while. Lucy handled the fact that Erza was still specially close with the other two; that was, by now, just part of Erza. Everyone accepted that about the three of them. Those three were family. They were a unit.

As years went by, that fact pervaded everything.

Natsu went missing, and Gray and Erza went into a frenzy tracking him down.

Gray struggled off and on with depression, and the other two were always there when he needed grounding. He'd finally been persuaded to move in with them, and there he actually flourished, unable now to pull into his darkness alone and let his mind torture him without anyone knowing.

Erza decided she wanted to try to have a child, and the other two were there with her when she dealt with the sickness; that first time when there was blood and tears and "the donor's sperm weren't viable, but we'll be more careful next time;" and then next time turned into a third time, and the years were passing faster now, and by the fourth try, there weren't as many tears: the three of them holding each other and eating comfort foods and walking through the sorrow of what could have been and was simply not meant to be.

It took some years before a tentative Natsu admitted he wanted a kid. He didn't know if he knew how to be a parent—Igneel had been amazing, but he'd also disappeared early on, and Natsu was scared, had always been. But he was considering adopting because scary as it was, he wanted to have kids. At least one.

Gray smiled and said he agreed and liked that plan. They both looked at Erza, who gave Natsu a soft look and said she wanted that for him. She said he'd be great as a father. She told him she was proud of him, and Natsu cried and laughed and said how much he loved them.

Natsu and Gray were the adoptive parents in the paperwork, but there was never any question that they would all raise this child.

They were a unit. They did these things together. It was more than friendship: it was a relationship without the romance, the committed love of those who choose to be together.

Aki grew up surrounded by love and rambunctious energy and three loving parents who modeled daily the disagreements that arose when people who loved each other were honest, and the way people who were honest found ways through those disagreements because they loved each other.

She was normal and boisterous and innocently good. She was well-loved.

She grew up well.

The house of her growing up always had three loving people whom she could return to—at a moment's notice, the three of them so excited to see her, Erza asking her a thousand questions and Natsu declaring all the new scents on her and Gray making her favorite food and giving her a quiet hug. It was perfect and it was home.

When she dated, she always brought her partners over to meet the parents who had made her who she was. It was a way of self-revelation and also a test, making sure it was okay, making sure the person didn't make it weird that she had three parents and none of them were her blood.

"Why is that weird?" she would ask. "Some people have two parents. Some people have one. Some people grow up with aunts and uncles everywhere and have oodles of parental figures."

She met a girl—a girl who loved Aki's family; who had long, deep conversations with Gray, and loved cuddling up and learning new skills from Erza, and was always ready to throw down with Natsu, who was ecstatic to have another ice mage in the family.

Aki and the girl Fuyu had a child, and this child had five grandparents.

"You're all my favorites!" their grandchild told the threesome one day, at the age of four.

"You're my absolute favorite," Erza said, sweeping the child up into her arms. Cheeks pink and smile wide, she looked right carrying a child. Whole.

"Aki, you've been demoted," Gray teased, kissing his daughter's head. "I guess this makes you second-favorite."

"Admit it: I'm third-favorite. You all adore Fuyu."

On the sofa, Fuyu blushed with pleasure.

"I adore everyone!" Natsu declared from the kitchen. "I have enough love to go around. Unlike this limited icicle over here."

"Hey," Gray laughed.

"Fire burns hot, but it's also the ficklest," Erza said as a small hand dragged her over to the bookcase of picture books.

"Zing!" Natsu grinned. "Good one."

"Are you ever going to stop teasing each other?" Aki asked in exasperation.

"What would be the fun in that?" Gray asked. He smiled at the two people he'd loved for most of his life. "It's the people who know you best who can make you laugh at yourself the most honestly."

"That," Fuyu spoke up, "is very wise."

"It deserves a cookie," Natsu agreed, appearing with a hot tray in his bare hand.

"Is this going to burn my fingers?" Gray asked suspiciously.

"I let it sit for a few minutes. Promise."

"I probably don't have feeling in my fingertips at this point anyway," Gray shrugged, and grabbed a cookie.

Aki grabbed two before her child exploded into their midst and assaulted Natsu's legs asking to have one.

"Everyone gets cookies," he said. "We're all wise."

"Speak for yourself," Erza said. "I'm still wondering how I got myself saddled with you two."

This got Natsu laughing so hard he had to put the tray down. (He did not try to stop the small hand that snuck three cookies from it. At sixty, he still had plenty enough energy to handle a hyper child.)

Gray pulled Erza into a hug and she kissed his cheek.

"We're the best family," Aki sighed. "I'm so thankful life happened this way."

"Me too," Erza said. "Me too."

* * *

 **A/N:** It wasn't until after I finished that I realized I didn't use the prompt word directly in here at all. :p I meant this to be a fic showing how they're all proud of the family they've developed together, and Aki in particular is proud of the parents she as. ^_^


	23. Sexuality - Secret (kink,ace)(Rufraxus)

_Freed has something special with Laxus, and something special of a completely different nature with Rufus. Kinks and asexuality reside side-by-side. (Fic #2 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = Can you keep a secret? + consensual kink relationship + aro/asexuality. Fraxus and Rufreed.

"Polyamory" means a lot of different things. There are multi-person relationships (like the previous fic, Pride) and people who have multiple relationships (like Freed here).

* * *

 **Can You Keep a Secret?**

They didn't tell anyone, simply because it wasn't the sort of thing one usually brought up at dinner.

"Yes, later I plan to tie his hands and blow him, with certain punishments if he comes before I tell him to."

No. Not normally something people shared or wanted to hear.

* * *

Laxus was aromantic: a description which Freed disliked because it sounded like the opposite of what Laxus actually was. He wasn't a hard-hearted person incapable of loving another; rather, he had so much love and romanticism that he poured it out on all of those close to him. He gave Ever flowers just because, and went on what essentially amounted to dates with Bickslow, and held hands with Freed (when there weren't people around who would misunderstand).

Laxus cared about those around him.

Perhaps the other thing that made him _aromantic,_ or not wanting a relationship, was that his sexual preferences were unusual. Neither a long-term dating relationship nor a casual fucking relationship would've satisfied those things he needed and wanted. From what Freed understood, Laxus had on occasion found individuals who shared his proclivities and had had brief stints and one-night stands, but it was hard. Again, because people didn't talk about it.

The way it unfolded between the two of them was both mundane and unusual.

To start, Freed had asked Laxus out. Laxus, who found him attractive and did indeed care for him, said yes, but not without personal misgivings—not about Freed, but about his own ability to deliver what it was Freed was looking for.

Freed, meanwhile, had been wondering if he dared admit to Laxus that the sex they had three weeks into dating had hardly been able to satisfy him and he'd had to use quite a bit of creativity mentally in order to finish.

Before he could figure out how to say it, they found themselves back at Laxus's place after a date, making out heavily, Laxus undoing Freed's belt and pushing him toward the bedroom.

"W-Would you ever consider…tying me up?" Freed asked as they tumbled onto the large bed together.

Laxus stopped what he was doing and looked up.

Freed had a moment of intense embarrassment, quailing in anxious fear before those surprised eyes.

"You want to?" Laxus asked. An honest question, not at all judgmental.

This loosened Freed up enough to say, "Yes?"

Smiling, Laxus rose and fetched something that looked suspiciously like it was designed for this very purpose.

"You're comfortable with this?" Laxus asked.

Freed leaned in and kissed him.

"I want it quite badly."

Laxus made him promise to say something the minute he felt uncomfortable about anything, but Freed already knew it would take much more than this to make him uncomfortable.

Foreplay was a little rougher that night, their fucking a little more energetic, the satisfaction more complete for both of them. Laxus and Freed could both tell: the other had liked that.

Each started thinking of what they might suggest doing next time.

* * *

Dating didn't work out, of course, but that was just fine. It turned out this relationship worked much better for them. They were affectionate and caring and close in their daily lives, eschewing the toxic messages people like Ivan had handed down and being fine with things like cuddling and deep conversations and sharing a bed platonically whenever need arose. All four of their team members developed a bond that was rare to see in the wild.

That was in daily life. And added on, every two weeks they would meet up to fuck—their way.

They were far past merely tying up nowadays.

This had been going on sometime when Freed met Rufus Lore.

They hit it off immediately. They had the same interests, similar style, same sense of humor. It didn't take long for them to grow closer. When Freed one day mentioned his growing bond with Rufus to Laxus, Laxus and Freed realized that they had the type of openness that allowed them to talk about basically anything now. That was pretty cool.

"Of course you can date," Laxus said, confused by the way Freed had worded it.

"Well, yes, I know that, but I mean what that means for us," Freed said. "I'd like to still do this. At least for now. I…get pleasure from this." He smiled. "This is very satisfying for me."

"And for me," Laxus said.

"Plus I don't think…Rufus is into that. Certainly not into all the things I enjoy having you do to me."

Laxus rumbled something affectionate and ran a hand through Freed's hair.

"Speaking of my doing things to you…" He gave Freed's hair a tug.

* * *

Freed and Rufus dating turned into spending more and more time with each other. It didn't take away from Freed's closeness with his team and with Laxus, but rather augmented it. Freed was brighter, happier, and it pleased the people who cared about him.

His relationship with Rufus proceeded slowly, and he was okay with that. Theirs was a connection of minds and emotions, of moments of sweetness that made both of them surprisingly shy.

After a long mission that had Freed injured—not badly, but enough to stay home for a few days—he was surprised when Rufus showed up at his door.

"I was worried," Rufus admitted, blushing, as Freed let him in (Rufus took the doorknob from his hand when he saw Freed's arm in a bandage). "Can I do anything for you?"

Freed smiled and bit his lip. "Help me with my boredom?"

Rufus laughed.

"That's easy."

It was, too—chatting and playing games and arguing about books and challenging each other to mindbenders.

But Freed was also in pain, and Rufus made him stop trying to do things and let Rufus do them instead, including fetching water and answering the door when Bickslow came by to drop off dinner. (Bickslow kindly refrained from teasing the pair overmuch.)

Later that evening, Rufus came into the room from cleaning up dinner and said, "You look exhausted."

Freed started from where his eyes had begun to close.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Do you need any more help?" Rufus ran a hand through his hair. "Or should I leave?"

"Don't leave," Freed mumbled, rubbing his forehead before yelping and remembering to use his other hand.

"Come here, you." Rufus helped him up and walked him to his bedroom.

"Ugh, sleep sounds nice. It's too fucking early for me to be this tired."

"It's replacing lost blood," Rufus said austerely. "Your body is working hard. Be nice to it."

As he lowered Freed to sit on the edge of the mattress, he kissed Freed's fingers.

Freed blushed.

He realized, looking up at Rufus, that while he'd figured out how to negotiate sexual relationships with ease, he had no idea how to ask for something much simpler.

"Would you, um…"

"Do you need help with anything?" Rufus asked.

"Yes." Freed tried not to look guilty. "But when do you have to leave?"

"Not any particular time. I can be here as long as you need me."

That warmed Freed's chest.

"I've felt…cold," he admitted, tugging Rufus's arm in gentle suggestion.

"Again, it's that blood loss." Rufus met his eyes. "Would you like me to lie next to you?"

"Please?" Freed asked.

If the request was childish, he could always pass it off tomorrow as more 'blood loss' side effects.

"Of course," Rufus smiled.

So they curled up in the bed together, heads leaning close on the pillow, Rufus offering his body heat and the simple comfort of being close.

They both breathed evenly and calmly, and they fell asleep together.

It was so nice to wake up next to each other the next day.

So they did it again. Sleeping in the same bed: it became a repeated arrangement. There wasn't anything sexual to it, and Freed found he still grew great pleasure from it, and wasn't sure if that surprised him or not—he didn't think it ought to.

In the mornings, as they became more comfortable, they would lie next to each other and talk lazily without inhibitions. The just-woken brain was much freer.

Even with that freedom, though, Rufus looked anxious as hell when he admitted to Freed that he was asexual.

"This is really nice," Rufus said, almost in a whisper, staring determinedly at Freed's knuckles. "I really like this. But I don't…really want to do other things? Which is awful, I know—"

"No, it isn't."

"Well, I just don't like those things. It's not you, I swear. I wouldn't even say anything, but I don't want you to get the wrong ideas, and I hate having to say no in the moment, and I just felt like, before things go any further, you should know…"

Freed nearly laughed. It was too perfect.

He didn't laugh, because Rufus looked incredibly insecure. Instead he put his hand over Rufus's and said, "That is totally fine with me."

"It is?"

"Yes." Freed inhaled. "Would you be okay…if I have sexual dalliances with other people?"

They hadn't actually called this a relationship yet. Not officially. Sure, it was one, but they hadn't used _words._

"Oh, um, yes," Rufus stuttered, still looking surprised that Freed was so unruffled. "Yes, obviously. It's not something I can…give. So of course."

"I want to have an exclusive relationship," Freed murmured. "Emotionally."

Rufus smiled, and for the first time since broaching the topic, his voice was firm and confident.

"I would really like that too."

Now Freed did laugh, and Rufus did too.

* * *

It was not long after that Freed told Rufus in more specific terms that he liked _certain things_ and had an arrangement with someone to satisfy those things. Rufus did not seem to judge this in the slightest.

"Who is it?" Rufus asked curiously.

Freed cracked his neck from side to side. "Um. Laxus."

"Really?"

"Yes. It works for us."

"Good," Rufus said quickly. "I'm not…I won't be jealous."

"I said I wanted to be with you. In a relationship. And for the record, that's not something Laxus wants, nor something I want with him."

"I believed you when you said that," Rufus said, smiling. "You used the word 'exclusive,' and that's not a common word in your vocabulary, if I recall."

"You probably do."

"Well, yes, I do."

They both grinned.

* * *

The hard feel of Laxus's fist was almost too much for Freed.

"L-Laxus…" Freed groaned.

"What did I say about talking?" Laxus asked, going still.

Freed opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Exactly," Laxus said.

He bit Freed's ear and began to move again. Freed was bent sharply over the sofa, Laxus thrusting behind him between his legs and fisting both of them together. Laxus's tip slid along the underside of Freed's cock every time he pulled his hips back, and the sensations were so foreign and erotic and enchanting that Freed couldn't help another moan.

"I told you," Laxus grunted, pulling away from him. "When it's the middle of the day, my neighbors complain. You have to be quiet."

Freed made a noise that was vaguely disgruntled, but it turned into a whine when Laxus's body heat left him.

Laxus slumped onto the sofa in front of him, spread his legs, and began to thrust into his own hand. When Laxus closed his eyes and panted through the pleasure of what he was doing, Freed found himself locked on the sight, watching Laxus undo himself while Freed went completely untouched.

And even untouched, he was feeling the pleasure as if Laxus were still thrusting behind him.

Throwing back his head, Laxus came in perfect silence, dripping over his hand and onto his abdomen. After breathing and coming down from the high, Laxus wiped his fingers on the inside of his leg and then nudged his hips at Freed.

"Clean me up."

Freed leaned in and eagerly did so, tongue well-versed in the intimacies of Laxus's body.

Later, cuddled naked against each other and with Laxus gently rubbing Freed's back, Laxus asked, "How's the boyfriend?"

"Good." Freed smiled. "He's very sweet. Bought me flowers last week. For no reason whatsoever."

"Aw." Laxus grinned over at him. "Sounds like he likes you."

"Just a little," Freed teased.

"That's good. You should be with someone who likes you as much as you do them."

Flushing, Freed put a hand over his face. "That obvious, am I?"

"Yeah," Laxus chuckled. "You should see your face when you say his name."

Freed bit his lip (something which Laxus and Rufus had both privately noticed was a habit of his, and both considered kind of cute).

"I'm happy with my life," Freed said. "I haven't been able to say that very often. But what I have now…this is everything I could want."

"I'm glad." Laxus squeezed his shoulder. "Want something to eat? Evergreen left her leftovers here and doesn't seem interested in rescuing them. And they're not really my thing."

"Oo." Freed made a noise of interest. "Stuffed eggplant?"

"How did you guess?"

"Because I know what you don't eat," Freed laughed.

* * *

 **A/N:** Once again I kinda strayed from the prompt? But the whole point is to spur creativity.

Phew, I'm managing to keep up! Thank you for all your comments. It's always affirming to hear from you.


	24. Sexuality - Coming Out (gaydemi)(Gratsu)

_Neither Gray nor Natsu are out to anyone else. Even each other. That's about to change. (Fic #3 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = Coming out + Gratsu.

I normally write the FT universe as a place where all sexualities are normal, but for the sake of this fic, I'm writing this with equivalent of "first world" attitudes.

I'm sorry I made Gajeel an asshole. Again. He's a good scapegoat :/

This is so fucking angsty and I don't care, because I needed to cry about something reasonable for once. Happy ending, as always.

* * *

 **Coming Out**

Natsu smoothed his hair. Then, very carefully, he ran his hand through it in a sharp gesture that spiked it.

He grinned at himself in the mirror. Now that was a sexy smirk.

He slipped back out the bathroom window without bothering to announce his presence to Erza. He didn't really want her seeing him like this anyway. This was just for him. She just happened to stock the best hair products.

* * *

Gray stared at his shaking hands. When had it gotten so complicated? Feelings were supposed to be controllable. Mind over matter.

Not that he didn't want to be gay, he just…would've found it more convenient to be straight. Or at least bisexual.

His eyes trailed toward the spot under the bed where the magazine had slid when he'd thrown it. Eventually temptation won out and he fished it out again.

Damn, the man was hot. Trying not to feel guilty, Gray eased a hand into his pants.

* * *

"Hello, Natsu. The usual?"

"Hey, Mira!" Natsu beamed. "How about yakitori?"

"I can do that. You seem awfully cheerful," she observed, smiling.

"Life is good," he sighed, propping his hands behind his head with a proud grin. "The team did really well on a mission. Basically perfect teamwork. It was amazing."

"Really? And the amount of damage?"

"None," he protested. "We were fucking awesome. Gray and I did this thing which was basically a Unison Raid, and it was super badass, and then Erza dealt a finishing blow. Lucy cleaned up all the little guys with one sweep. We were brilliant. Gray was so happy he made it snow on accident," he laughed. "It was pretty cool."

"I'm glad to hear it," she smiled.

* * *

Gray bumped into Lucy on his way to the guild.

"How's it going?" he asked, falling into step with her.

Lucy groaned.

"Last night I went out with Erza and got hit on by half a dozen different people. It was awful. I hardly slept."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that happened to you. Not that you're not sweet," he added quickly.

She smiled. "Yeah, more and more lately. Ever since the Grand Magic Games guys just… I don't know. They think they can take liberties."

"Wow," he said. "That really sucks."

"Yeah."

* * *

Natsu grinned when Gray walked in. He was talking with Lucy, their expressions wry at whatever had them chuckling. As Natsu bounced over, Levy also noticed the pair and hurried over to them waving something colorful.

"Lucy, did you see this?"

At Levy's tone, Lucy's face changed to one of dread. "What happened?"

"Loke happened," Levy said grimly.

She laid out the latest issue of Sorcerer's Weekly on the table for them all to inspect.

Natsu peered at the page. Next to a photo of Loke with his tie undone and shirt halfway unbuttoned smiling silkily at the camera was a short article. Lucy's sharp intake of breath made him look over.

"That _imbecile!_ " Lucy hissed.

"What?" Natsu asked.

"He said I'm his _girlfriend?!_ 'One of many'!? What in nine fucking hells?"

Natsu raised his eyebrows and looked over at Gray. The ice mage for some reason was blushing. His eyes were still on the spread.

"What—?" Natsu began.

"Loookeee!" Lucy shouted.

The man appeared in a glimmer of ethereal light.

"Hello, my lady."

"Don't you fucking _my-lady_ me. What the fuck is this?" Lucy held the offending page in front of his nose.

"An interview," Loke said proudly. "And a very nice picture, if I do say so myself. Do you like it? I thought the lighting could've been better—"

" _Girlfriend?"_

"Ahh…" Loke looked from side to side in a thinly-veiled search for escape.

* * *

Natsu's elbow bumped Gray from his embarrassed reverie.

"What are you so red about?"

"Nothing," Gray grunted, turning to observe the shouting match now ensuing between mage and spirit.

"Why on earth would he do that?" Natsu laughed. "It's not like SW doesn't have other people to interview."

"The whole issue is devoted to 'the most attractive men from the country's most attractive guilds,' " Gray said vaguely. Lucy's face was a furious mauve.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Natsu's bark of incredulous laughter jolted Gray. That was never a good sound.

"When did _you_ read Sorcerer's Weekly?" Natsu asked.

"I see them around," Gray grunted. "Everyone does."

"And read the issue and know what it's about? I fucking don't. Only girls and gays read that shit."

Gray felt a wave of fire sweep through his body, angry and red.

"Go fuck yourself, shitface."

Natsu's hair took on a telltale fiery glow. "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me," Gray growled. He realized things had gotten quieter, and discovered that Loke and Lucy were both watching them.

"So you are gay, then?" Natsu taunted.

"Why?" Gray spat. "You interested?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Full of anger and shame.

Natsu stepped in front of him.

"Wow, defensive a touch?"

"Get the fuck out of my face, Natsu," he breathed.

"Make me, bastard—"

Gray wheeled around. He was breathing too hard, too fast. He couldn't do this. Couldn't let this conversation continue. Not in front of all these people.

* * *

Gray bolted for the doors. Natsu gaped after him.

"Hey—come back!" he shouted. "I'm not done with you!"

But the doors swung shut…on Gray's absence. Natsu's head raged with an echoing silence.

"Really, Natsu?" Lucy said quietly.

"What?" he spat, rounding on her, angry for reasons he couldn't put words to. "What the hell are you looking at me like that for?"

The sharpness in her eyes made him back down.

"Gay jokes? Are you serious?" she hissed. "To him? What did you want to do, kill him with shame? Gods, Natsu! I know you don't like each other, but that was heartless, even for you."

"Yeah," Loke said seriously. "That's got to be the worst I've ever seen you toward each other. And that's saying something."

"I didn't—what?"

"You need to go apologize," Lucy told him. "Natsu. This time…this is real."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Gray, and you making fun of him for his sexuality. I'm talking about that boy you pretend to hate who is now out there _actually_ hating himself because he thinks his guildmates don't accept him."

"Gray is…gay?"

"You didn't notice?" Lucy shook her head. "Have you seen Gray flirt with girls? Ever?"

"Well, no, but that doesn't mean anything. I don't flirt with girls."

Loke rolled his eyes and Natsu had the urge to punch him.

"Have you seen the way he looks at dudes sometimes? Come on, Natsu: you have sensitive senses. He gets all red whenever a guy is nice to him. He's just…he's different around them. He isn't close to any guys; all his friends are girls. He never opens up to other men. He's too scared to."

"What…"

Things were dawning on Natsu, things he'd never connected, never dreamed before.

"That's what…makes you gay?"

Lucy looked at him quizzically. "What did you _think_ gay meant?"

"I dunno…attracted to your own gender?"

"Um, yeah," she said obviously.

"And _that's_ what attraction is?"

"Natsu, what the hell? Have you ever liked someone?"

"…No?" he guessed. It had never crossed his mind. "Romance is for other people."

Lucy shook her head at him.

"Go apologize, Natsu."

"No," he said stubbornly.

"Natsu Dragneel," she growled, "you just ripped Gray to pieces whether you accept that or not. Go fucking apologize or you'll lose one of your best friends forever."

"L-Lose…"

Natsu felt his skin chill over, and he shivered.

He darted for the doors.

* * *

"Gray's gay?" Gajeel asked.

"He's into guys, yeah," Lucy said, glaring at him. "So what?"

"Figures," he smirked.

"Hey!" Loke said.

"Relax," Gajeel said, still grinning. "It's not a bad thing. Just funny. Natsu said all those things to him."

"Natsu's not homophobic," Lucy sighed, "but…shit, he certainly made himself sound like it."

"You know what they say about the homophobic ones." Gajeel laughed. "They're the ones who are secretly gay."

* * *

Gray knew Natsu would be able to follow if he wanted. Still, when the fire mage didn't storm out after him, he assumed he was in the clear. He'd made it to the river and found a cave made of bushes where he could look out over the water.

When he heard the crackle of footsteps, he wiped his face hurriedly.

He would murder anyone who saw him. They'd better walk on by or fucking else. His ice was raging, and he would have no trouble turning even Laxus into a pulp in this mood.

When he saw Natsu, his stomach turned over.

The sickness inside him tried to push tears to the surface again, Gray swallowing against them. The asshole wore no expression, meandering through the brush straight in Gray's direction.

Fuck him. Gray held his breath against a sob. Fuck having best friends who mocked you in front of everyone you loved.

Natsu stopped suddenly and pounded his fist into a tree.

"Fuck!" he shouted.

Gray startled so hard he almost rattled his bush. Natsu didn't look in the direction of his hiding spot, just shook out his hand. _That's what you get for punching solid oak, you fucking piece of shit._

"Fuck," Natsu said again, quieter.

He looked out at the river, and Gray realized he wasn't swearing at the pain.

Gray watched for a little while longer as Natsu shuffled his fingers restlessly through his hair. The jaunty spikes he usually had looked sad now, wilted.

Biting back the thousand things he wanted to say, the stupid tears his body wanted to shed, Gray began to back out of the bush, hoping to slip away without Natsu noticing anything. If the man were this distracted, it just might be possible, dragon senses or no.

"I'm sorry," Natsu said.

Gray froze.

"I didn't mean it like that. If I'd known— No, shit," Natsu's tone changed, "that doesn't work. Not knowing isn't an excuse. Come on, Natsu; you can do better."

Natsu sighed and paced once.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings," he said, voice serious again. "I didn't think before I said those things. I was trying to rile you, and I am totally ashamed I tried to use… _that_ to do it. That was completely uncalled for.

"It isn't what I think at all. I think you're awesome. You're one of my best friends. You _are_ my best friend. You being gay doesn't change anything for me. You're still— I still care—" Natsu stopped and huffed. "I still feel the same way about you I always did."

There was a beat of silence.

"Fuck," Natsu whispered.

Gray was mesmerized. He didn't know Natsu apologized. Hearing him rehearse it, as if it were important, as if he were actually worried about the outcome…

 _Fuck you._ A tear escaped down his cheek, salty and warm. _I'm so fucking tired of being alone. Fuck you. Fuck you for making me feel this way._

He pressed his face to his hands and stifled a hiccough.

Natsu's head shot up.

"Hello?" the Dragon Slayer called, and Gray went cold.

No, no, no.

"Is someone there?" Natsu said, peering into the bushes. Gray froze, eyes staring at Natsu, trying to blend into the leaves, hoping against hope that Natsu saw nothing but shadows. Natsu's eyes skittered over his several times, gaze searching.

Sighing, Natsu straightened and turned away.

"Fucking birds," Natsu mumbled. "Where the hell are you, icicle?"

Gray's heart was breaking apart with every beat. He held his breath, waiting as Natsu fiddled with the bark of a tree, facing back up the path. Gray could not talk to him right now. Could not face him. Gray was anger and pain, and Natsu was…was…

At long last, Natsu trudged back the way he'd come and Gray let out a long gasp.

* * *

Gray had vanished into thin air.

The longer he looked, the lower Natsu hunched. At this rate, he would never find Gray. He would disappear, Lucy said, he would leave and Natsu would lose him—

He couldn't lose Gray.

When afternoon was starting to fade, Natsu headed dejectedly through town, exhausted.

And alone.

* * *

Gray didn't return home until dusk. He couldn't risk running into a guildmate. His masks were gone, stripped bare, and he knew his paleness and limpness and inability to lie meant all his truths would be out the moment anyone asked him how he was doing.

He wasn't ready for that.

When he reached his complex, he didn't notice the shadow until he was coming up the walk. Nearing his door, he peered into the twilit darkness until, a few meters away, he realized who it was.

"Natsu?" he asked, and his voice dropped away.

Gray's hand came up to his throat.

No. No, no, no, no—

"Gray."

* * *

"No." Gray looked petrified, his fingers tightening around his throat until his hand moved up to cover his mouth. "Shit. You're not supposed to be here. No…"

"Gray," Natsu put out a hand, heart pounding, "I'm here to apologize."

"I don't… No. I don't want to hear it." Gray's face crumpled. Natsu had never seen him look so broken. "I can't."

"Look—gods. I'm so fucking sorry, Gray. I can't believe I said that. That was awful. _I_ was awful. You don't deserve to be treated like that, and I shouldn't have, and nothing can excuse that, nothing. I'm so sorry, and if… I'll do anything, okay? I know I hurt you, so if there's anything I can do—"

Gray let out a sob, turned, and sprinted down the walk.

Natsu ran after him.

"Gray, wait!" he panted, but the ice mage was running hard, the furious noises of tears and panting reaching Natsu's ears on the wind. _Don't cry. I don't want you to cry. Not because of me._

Gray turned a corner and Natsu nearly skidded into a wall trying to follow him, chasing Gray between buildings and through a park. At the edge of a copse of trees, Gray finally slowed for breath, glancing back, but when he saw Natsu closing in he took off again.

Natsu couldn't help seeing that terrified expression of Gray's over and over as he ran.

It broke him. Gray should never look that way because of him.

"Gray," Natsu panted. "Please stop."

They fell into a rhythm, Gray not able to escape him but Natsu not able to catch up. Until finally, finally, they were back at the river and Gray had run out of breath, putting his hands on his knees as he gasped, trying to hobble away when Natsu practically fell down the embankment toward him.

"Would you…wait…two seconds?"

Gray stopped and Natsu did too, hand on a tree as they stared at each other and caught their breaths. There was a sharp pain in Natsu's side, and it made the agonizing desperation he felt that much worse.

"You deserve an apology," Natsu panted.

"I don't deserve shit." Gray's voice was low, sick-sounding. "Stay away from me."

When Gray's shoulders heaved, Natsu realized he was crying.

"Gray." His voice broke. "What's wrong?"

"What's _wrong?_ " Gray's voice rose. "I'm gay. Like you said. I'm fucking gay and it isn't going to change."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

Gray's laugh was flat and scary.

"Only a straight person would believe that. There's _loads_ wrong with it."

"There isn't. Gray, you're still you to me."

"I'm different from other people!"

"That's okay," Natsu insisted, coming closer while Gray watched him with trepidation. "That doesn't matter to me."

"But you said—"

"I shouldn't have. That was horrid of me. I think I was… It doesn't matter. It was wrong."

Gray covered his face with his hands and Natsu crossed the last of the distance between them. It was instinct to pull Gray into a hug, Gray's face tucked into his shoulder as Gray shook and shivered. Natsu held him tight, intent not to screw this up. Intent to undo as much of the damage as he could. He'd been so heartless, when all he really wanted was for Gray to be happy. To laugh and tease each other and have a normal life. Together, close.

After a while, Gray straightened enough to pull away from Natsu's embrace. Natsu felt a little bereft at this, wanting to keep comforting him, but Gray's shrunken posture discouraged touching.

"Why'd you say that shit this morning?" Gray whispered. "If it's supposedly not true."

"I've been thinking about that a lot today," Natsu sighed. "I think… Well, so Lucy already knows about your sexuality. She's pretty observant. For the record, she doesn't care. Obviously: she's treated you the same all this time. And I think maybe I kinda knew? Maybe I was trying to get you to admit it? Maybe I kind of…wanted you to be honest with me."

"Shit way of asking me to be honest," Gray murmured.

"Yes, it was. I'll never do that again."

Gray wiped his face. "Just ask next time."

"I will."

Inhaling, Gray looked around: the riverbank around them was quickly growing dark, the water a soft burble that calmed and filled the moment. Natsu fell onto his ass in the dirt, happy to let his shaking legs have a rest, and looked up expectantly. Gray sat down beside him. After a moment, Natsu bumped their shoulders together, and Gray bumped him back.

"So, um…Gray? How'd you know?"

"That I was…gay?" Gray's voice trembled a little on the word. "You know the way you feel when you look at a pretty girl?"

"No…?"

Gray raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"I mean, it's just…normal? I'm evaluating whether she's friend or foe, and if foe, how powerful she is, and if friend, how likely it is that she'll fight with me."

Gray let out a surprised laugh.

"You've honestly never felt anything else?"

"No. Is that weird?"

"I don't know," Gray said wryly. "That's kind of the point. I don't feel those things."

"But with guys?"

"With some guys," Gray corrected. "I just feel…like I want to get to know them. I hope they want to get to know me. I get this feeling…that I'd be willing to follow them anywhere just to be with them."

Natsu smiled. "Sounds like friendship."

"Kind of. But more." Gray exhaled. "Then there are pretty boys… I like looking at pictures. Sometimes. Hot, shirtless guys. Gets me…feeling things. You know."

"Like that picture of Loke in Sorcerer's Weekly?" Natsu chuckled.

Gray blushed. "What? It's a hot photo."

"Oh, totally," Natsu added quickly. "Loke is an attractive guy. Even I noticed that, the first day he came to Fairy Tail."

"The first day?" Gray snorted. He sounded like he was starting to loosen up, a little more like the old Gray, and it made Natsu feel warm inside. "Yeah, he's nice to look at. Those dragons from Sabertooth, too."

Natsu made a face.

"I mean, you're not wrong," he said, "but I have to disagree just on principle. I refuse to acknowledge that people outside our guild can be attractive."

Gray let out a bark of laughter and Natsu joined in. It felt good to laugh, together, side by side, arms bumping and grins wide when they looked at each other.

"So," Natsu asked. "Have you ever liked anyone?"

Gray's face fell into solemnity immediately. "Yes. Of course."

"Of course?"

"Hasn't everyone?"

"I…don't think I have," Natsu admitted.

Gray peered at him intently. "Really?"

Natsu shrugged. It made him feel out of sorts to admit this. As if he were missing something.

"I don't really need anyone. I have the team. If I want to fight, I go find you." He grinned. "I'm never alone. There are always people. Guildmates. Usually you and Erza and Lucy. I'm always…full."

"That sounds nice," Gray said.

"It is. Except when things happen to those people. Then I get furious."

"And go into Dragon Force," Gray added.

"What?"

"Every time you've gone into Dragon Force," Gray said, smiling. "It's because you needed to protect someone. Erza. The team. Me."

Natsu found he couldn't meat Gray's eyes as he said this.

"Yeah." He coughed. "And it's why I followed you all the way out here. I'm sorry I hurt you, Gray."

"I…I think I forgive you," Gray said. "Don't gloat or anything."

"I don't intend to. That's a relief."

"I'm glad." Gray's smile was wide and genuine. It was a good look on him. "Thanks for coming out here."

"I had to make sure…" Natsu's voice dropped off. "I just wanted to see you were okay. That… That I hadn't hurt you beyond the point of healing."

"Natsu." When Natsu didn't immediately look over, Gray grabbed his arm. "You could never do that."

"I'm not so sure," he said, feeling dull. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

"I already responded to your apology. Stop making me repeat myself."

"It's just…"

"I know."

Gray was still holding his arm. He let go reluctantly, sitting up and pulling away from Natsu's heat. Natsu felt the lack of him like an icy wind.

"Where are you going?" he asked as Gray stood.

Gray sighed.

"Home, I guess? I'm kind of exhausted, to be honest. This day."

"I know." Natsu wiped his trousers off as he rose too. "Can I cook you dinner? It's the least I can do."

"I won't pass that up," Gray said. "Lead the way."

The walk to Natsu's house was quiet, the pair of them falling into step. A hundred things were swirling through Natsu's head, Gray's presence not a small part of them. The crackle of the leaves under his boots and the quiet rhythm of his pulse and body. Natsu had almost lost this. He'd almost pushed it away forever.

"Thanks for forgiving me," he whispered as they came up the walk.

"Of course, Natsu."

"I know I don't deserve it."

Gray grabbed his hand and dragged him to a stop.

He searched Natsu's eyes.

"Thank you for coming to find me."

Natsu gave him a sad smile. "Of course, snowflake. I always will."

Radiating a simple smile, Gray released him and headed toward his door. "So what's for dinner?"

* * *

Somehow they managed to laugh through dinner.

'Managed' was the wrong word. It was easy. It was like it always was between them: fun, and natural, and free-flowing. They never had trouble coming up with things to say to each other, new jokes to tell, new things to laugh at together. They were in sync; it was why they always fought.

By the time they'd finished tucking away thirds, it was growing late, and then Natsu said he had dessert too if Gray wanted, and Gray told him hell yes, and so they sat down over bowls of ice cream and traded more jokes, until they were tired and slap-happy and honest.

"Remember when Elfman shaved his chest?" Natsu laughed.

"It was weird." Gray made a face. "He's…he's not my type, so this is a little unfair, but he's too ugly to shave his chest."

Natsu snorted so hard on his bite of ice cream that he groaned and said, "Ow, brain freeze," even while he continued laughing.

"Okay, but I shaved my chest once," Gray said. "And that did look hot, you have to admit."

"Yeah, but you have the abs to make it work."

Gray cracked up, unsure what on earth he was laughing at, but it was funny. This was what being with Natsu was all about.

"Hey, I told Mira about our brilliant job."

"Brilliant job?"

"How you and I slayed and basically did a Unison Raid."

"Dude, that was awesome. All that fighting each other over the years has paid off," Gray laughed.

"I bet we could do it," Natsu mused.

"A Unison Raid?"

"Yeah."

"Really?" Gray gave him an incredulous look. "Do you know how hard that is? Most people never can."

"Yeah, I know," Natsu said, crossing his arms and pouting defensively. "Still think we could do it together."

"Maybe," Gray admitted. They were pretty damn in sync sometimes. "Depends on how frustrated I was at you at the time."

Natsu grinned at him. "Well, if you're ever _not_ frustrated at me, we should try it. I'm generally a pretty annoying person."

"No, you're not." Gray rolled his eyes.

Natsu cackled in surprise. " _You_ saying that? What has this world come to?"

"Oh, har. You're not a bad person, Natsu. Don't talk like you are. It makes me uncomfortable."

Natsu sobered. "Sorry."

There was a pause, both of them gathering their breath.

"Gray," Natsu said, just as Gray said, "Hey, um."

They blinked.

"You first," Gray said.

"I just…am grateful we're friends."

"Me too," Gray smiled.

"You're my best friend," Natsu said seriously. "Let's not change that, okay?"

* * *

 **A/N:** This isn't the end! Part 2 is the fic for the next prompt.


	25. Sexuality - Lies We Told (Gratsu)

_Natsu claims he hasn't felt attraction, but that's a lie. Gray is also hiding things. (Fic #4 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = The lies we told + Gratsu.

Sequel/part 2 to my previous WWTDP fic, **Coming Out.**

* * *

 **The Lies We Told**

It took Natsu a long time to notice.

The little things, the ways Gray related to him differently since (inadvertently) coming out to him. It was all subtle stuff: the way he pulled back from touch at the last minute, the way he would cut himself off mid-sentence whenever he made a comment to Natsu, letting others carry the conversation while Gray got a thoughtful look and didn't meet his eyes.

"What's up, snowball?" Natsu would ask sometimes, and Gray would give him a distant smile and shrug.

"Nothing."

* * *

It came together very slowly for Natsu.

Gray's behavior was bugging him enough that Natsu started thinking through their past interactions looking for a cause. That was how he knew it was perturbing him to a significant degree: normally Natsu just punched things out with people.

He remembered when they'd had their pivotal conversation about Gray's sexuality. Gray had seemed particularly disturbed by his own identity, but since then Natsu had seen no evidence of distress. Before then, either, if Natsu thought back to interactions they had which, in retrospect, should've told him right away that Gray was not straight.

But when they'd had The Conversation, Gray had yelled and been in tears over his sexuality, furious and destroyed that it would never change.

As if he were afraid Natsu would hate him, and was pre-freaking out in anticipation.

Except Natsu had never said anything that he could think of which was homophobic except the one comment that had precipitated The Conversation in the first place. So why would Gray expect him to be angry?

Natsu was also trying to figure out what attraction was all about in the first place. His conversations with Lucy had convinced him that this was something he should've noticed in himself before.

 _Had_ he ever experienced attraction before?

He started evaluating his feelings at every moment, which quickly became overwhelming and frustrating.

He wasn't even sure what he was looking for. What did it feel like? When you liked someone…you just liked them. They became your friend. You loved your friends and took care of them, and your best friends most of all.

But his best friend was Gray. Clearly Gray wasn't okay, so Natsu needed to focus on that, not himself, so he could be helpful—or at least not destructive.

Not that there was anything wrong with destruction in general, but he didn't want to destroy Gray again. He'd had enough of making Gray cry. Once was plenty.

* * *

It struck him one day that Gray, who generally didn't make assumptions about people, had made quite a glaring one when they'd had the coming out conversation.

 _Only a straight person would believe that,_ he'd hissed, looking angry and sad.

But who said Natsu was straight? Not that he necessarily wasn't, but he hadn't declared one way or another. And Gray, the Gray who had always given him room to grow into himself, who always had space for Natsu (whether his strength or his confusion), had just…assumed.

 _You don't understand._

And he'd been so mad about that. Like a wall had come down between them—Natsu felt it too at the words. He hadn't liked it.

 _Leave me alone. I can't._

Gods, it had hurt. Gray didn't say terrible things like that even when they fought. On the other hand, Gray had been hurting: his harsh words were understandable and forgivable, but still…

Natsu began to have a sneaking suspicion Gray's assumptions had more to do with this than was immediately apparent.

* * *

"Gray."

The ice mage turned around at the sound of his name.

"Yo, Natsu," he said, ready to smile, but Natsu looked so serious that his face fell. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?"

Oh. A strange and unpleasant sensation swept through him.

Something must have registered on his face, because Natsu's eyes widened and he quickly assured him, "It's not bad. I just have a question, and it's kind of personal."

He glanced around the busy guildhall in indication.

Gray sighed. He wasn't actually reassured. The only personal questions Gray could think of were not ones he wanted to answer. Not to anyone, and especially not to Natsu.

They exited the back of the guild and wandered over to a sunny spot where Natsu plopped down, Gray leaning against a tree.

Natsu stared in consternation at the water for a while as Gray watched him.

"What does attraction feel like?"

Gray coughed. That had _not_ been one of the questions he'd anticipated—and dreaded—but it was almost worse.

"Why?" Gray asked.

"Because I want to know."

"What does it feel like to _you?_ "

"That's the problem," Natsu huffed. "I don't know. Lucy was surprised I didn't know what she was talking about with…all of that. And I keep trying to understand, but I have no idea what I'm looking for."

"Maybe you've never felt attraction before," Gray said, the chill in his throat manageable—at least if Natsu hadn't felt _anything,_ Gray wouldn't have to watch him go and date someone _else._

"Maybe. Is that normal?"

"I don't know?" Gray sighed and sank to the ground, perching on his haunches. "I think there's asexual, and aromantic and stuff, and that's when you don't get that way."

"Asexual," Natsu mused.

Gray watched his face. Natsu's lovely face—Gray always looked at him and thought, _beautiful._

If Natsu were asexual, they could have something that wasn't quite what Gray wanted but was better than going their separate ways. They could be bachelors together. They could still always have each other…it would just be different from the way which Gray dreamed of.

* * *

Natsu could feel Gray's eyes on him.

He was still processing Gray's words, testing them for internal validity with his own feelings, wondering…

Weirdly, he found he didn't _want_ to be asexual. In the same way he didn't quite want to be straight. Which was a funny thing to want.

"There's also…" Gray paused.

Natsu was not going to let him drift off without speaking. Not this time.

"Also?" he prompted.

"Demisexual," Gray sighed. "It's when you don't feel it as much as other people."

"Oh?" Natsu sat up straighter. "How does that work?"

"You don't feel attraction unless you know someone really well. So you don't really get turned on by people, or experience a romantic desire…except towards your good friends. Which can be really inconvenient," he added.

"Really? I would think that would make it easier. You don't have to test things out with someone: you already know you get along and like each other. There's no…dating interim period." Natsu shuddered. "The idea of dating always makes me want to run."

"Me too," Gray laughed.

They glanced at each other and smiled.

"So," Gray said. "S-So… No girls? Ever—yet?"

"No girls," Natsu confirmed.

Gray's brow furrowed at Natsu's words.

"You mean…then…what about guys?"

"No?" Natsu couldn't help it ending in a question, especially as he watched Gray's face fall and then rise again, shoulders tense.

Natsu wondered when being honest with each other became so excruciating.

Or when they'd leaned so close toward each other.

"Gray," Natsu said.

Gray inhaled, eyelashes fluttering, and drew back. His lips rounded the word _sorry_ but no sound came out behind it.

"Maybe you're ace or demi," Gray said instead.

"Maybe. Would explain why this is so hard," Natsu agreed, flopping his head to the side dramatically.

"That's what he said," Gray muttered.

Natsu burst into surprised laughter and Gray joined him, the pair looking at each other and launching into more guffaws.

"How do you know so much?" Natsu asked when their giggles subsided. "I know none of this. They should teach a class."

"Yeah…"

Natsu peered at him, hearing more to that sentence. Gray sighed.

"I'm demi, Natsu. That's how I know what it is."

"So you only fall for your best friends or something? How did you figure it out?"

"Something…like that." Gray's mouth twisted. "I didn't feel what other people talked about feeling, and then when I did it was someone close to me, for a long time, and then nothing after them for a while, and then another good friend… I realized I was different, and went looking to see if anyone was like me. Turns out there are."

"Huh."

Natsu sat back.

"What are you thinking?" Gray asked, clearly nervous.

"Just…it all makes sense. Why are there these ideas about how much and when and for whom you're supposed to feel attraction? Where do these ideas come from? Because if it's totally normal to be gay, or bi, or—or demi, then why do we act like it's _not_ normal?"

"Beats me," Gray sighed. "I wish it weren't like this."

The ice mage resettled, looking moody, his legs stretched in front of him and his elbows propped behind him. He was shirtless, unsurprisingly, and Natsu glanced at his abs automatically. Gray was ripped, a consequence of near constant training for a majority of his life.

Gray caught him looking and Natsu suddenly felt like he'd done something wrong. When Natsu shifted uncomfortably, Gray raised an eyebrow.

But the ice mage looked away after a moment and Natsu breathed again. Brow scrinching, Gray stretched and for a brief moment all his musculature was on display, shadowed and sunlit in relief.

And Natsu thought, _fuck._ When had Gray started looking so good? Forever, now that he thought about it.

The squirming in Natsu's gut begged his attention, and when he realized he was feeling both adrenaline rush and anxiety, it hit him: this was what Lucy said attraction felt like.

Oh. Oh shit.

Something enormous pressed down on his chest, something he wanted to hide and savor. He felt very out in the open sitting here beside his best friend. The realization kept hitting him, each time with surprise: did he…like Gray like _that?_

Only it wasn't really a question.

Natsu wanted to sit with this feeling for a while and consider it. But when Gray rose to get up, it was suddenly vital that he keep Gray here.

"G-Gray," he said.

* * *

The tone of Natsu's voice (and the fact that the voice was Natsu's) made Gray glance over. He found a very odd expression on the other boy's face.

The weird sensations that had been haranguing Gray since the start of this conversation sharpened into a painful point. He had to be careful when he breathed around it, as if he would break apart if he moved too fast.

He couldn't parse the expression Natsu wore for the simple reason that there were too many wishes and dreams in the way. Natsu looked intent and awed and like he was seeing Gray for the first time (and didn't dislike what he saw), and that spurred Gray's hopes along terribly. He _hated_ getting Natsu's attention like this, because it always made his stomach turn over pleasantly, and he knew, just knew, his longing showed on his face. He couldn't hide it when Natsu made him feel this way.

"What?" he demanded, throaty, turning away so that Natsu couldn't see his face. He was on his feet, Natsu still seated, but Gray felt like Natsu was so much taller and bigger than him. So much more luminous.

The light sigh behind Gray's back hurt, but Gray refused to turn around. That sigh only hurt because he wanted to believe it was a disappointed sigh, not an everyday sigh.

"Where are you going?" Natsu asked.

Gray scuffed his foot, considering fleeing, but that hadn't worked out well for him in the past. Natsu had proved quite persistent in coming after him, refusing to let Gray hide from him. It had finished Gray, last time when Natsu chased him down after outing him, because he'd been fighting his emotions for so long, and then Natsu hunted him down in his isolation, apologized, and wanted to make him feel better.

Gray was smitten.

He hated how simple friendly comfort could do that. He knew it was just Natsu being the good, loyal friend he was. Natsu had been similarly relentless with Erza, Lucy, Wendy. But Gray had been unable to not be in love with him since then, and it hurt so much.

And so Gray was stuck here, knowing he couldn't run away from Natsu because of how Natsu was, and wanting to run away for precisely the same reason.

He still hadn't replied, but the silence had gone on too long, and Gray didn't have any answer.

"Gray, what if I'm demi?" Natsu said.

Good, a conversation Gray could grab hold of.

"It would explain a lot," Natsu went on. "I've never…I mean, those feelings have been so rare I didn't notice them before. This is starting to actually make _sense_ for once. You're really smart sometimes, snowflake, you know that?"

"Huh? I am?" Gray said stupidly. "Um, thank you. And maybe you are d-demi. It's up to you: you pick whatever label you think best fits you. Maybe over time your evaluation of yourself will change, but it's always your choice of label.

"So, wait, 'rare'? I thought you didn't know what attraction feels like?"

He'd looked back at Natsu, and to his surprise, Natsu blushed in a very un-Natsu-like way.

"I…lied. I know what it feels like," he muttered. "Just didn't realize."

"Because it's rare."

"Yeah."

Gray huffed, trying not to think about Natsu's feelings but instead of the way his own story mirrored that—how their paths were similar and he understood.

He nodded and sat back down, making sure there was sufficient distance between the pair of them but also not too much distance, because he didn't want to seem unusually aloof, and _why_ was he over-thinking this so much…

"You are really fucking confused, aren't you?" Natsu asked, frowning. "Or upset? I can't really tell. Are you uncomfortable talking about this?"

"Wh-Why do you say that?" Gray asked in surprise.

"Because your heart is going a mile a minute and your face looks…I don't know, not like your face."

"Not like my face?" Gray said sarcastically, raising his eyebrow.

"You don't usually look so consternated," Natsu huffed. "You've faced fucking monsters looking confident, and now you look like I'm going to…shame you again. I don't know."

Natsu looked down and Gray realized.

"No, not— Gods, Natsu, I forgave you for that. That was…that was us being us and yeah, it was wrong and it hurt, but you more than apologized and so I forgave you and that's…all in the past. No, I'm…"

"You're?"

Gray's mess of a mind sought a reply that wouldn't lead down dangerous paths.

"I am uncomfortable," he said, and it wasn't a lie.

"Sorry."

"I'm not very good at talking about this stuff."

"You don't have to be." Natsu's smile was friendly and comforting. "I doubt anyone truly is."

 _You certainly look comfortable._ But that smile was calming him down, and Natsu must have sensed that, for his grin widened. Without warning, he reached over and covered Gray's fist. The touch wasn't long, but it wasn't brief, either. Gray knew it was meant to be reassuring, and it was, but it also made his pulse spike.

"It's weird when you look freaked out," Natsu commented with a laugh. "It's so not you."

"Yeah?" Gray challenged, trying to get back in the swing of their banter. "What is me?"

"You're you," Natsu said. "You're grumpy and you kick ass because you hate the world."

Gray laughed so hard his stomach ached, tension singing through him with each heave of breath.

"I do not fucking hate the world," he protested, but Natsu was laughing too, and they just kept sending each other chuckling. "Okay, maybe sometimes."

"Have you _seen_ your face? You do nothing but scowl."

"Do not!"

"Okay, you don't, but it's your…maybe second-favorite expression."

"What's my first?" Gray asked.

Natsu tilted his head, and it couldn't be Gray's imagination that there was a pink tint around his freckles.

"Well…you don't do it as much, but since you look so happy when you do…I'd argue smiling."

Now Gray was definitely the one blushing, head ducking. He met Natsu's eyes and the contact didn't break away, the pair of them staring at each other until it was definitely awkward and Gray was having trouble breathing.

"Gray," Natsu said quietly, finally looking down, "I wouldn't normally ask this, but since your heart rate is a dead giveaway…"

"It is?" Gray interrupted.

"Um, yeah." Natsu swallowed, Gray watching his adam's apple rise and fall. "You're freaking the hell out."

"I…"

It was true.

"I can't decide if it's enthusiasm or panic, and if panic, whether the good or bad kind," Natsu said.

"Maybe both?" Gray croaked.

Natsu's hand jerked, arm tensing.

"Can I…" He looked at Gray through his lashes. "Kiss you?"

Gray stared at him. At Natsu's dark eyes, sincere and intent, his lips, the brown skin of his throat.

"Yes?" Gray squeaked.

The moment didn't feel real. It didn't feel like it was really going to happen. Gray was constantly alive as Natsu took his hand. As Natsu leaned in and bumped his nose against Gray's. Squeezing Natsu's fingers, Gray tilted his head, breath shallow. His entire focus was on the slow approach of Natsu's mouth.

When their lips brushed, gooseflesh broke out over Gray's arms and he shivered.

A quiet whine escaped his throat.

* * *

Natsu heard Gray's noise of longing and desire as he felt the warmth of Gray's mouth against his own. The touch was incredibly light, and that was almost too much for him. His heart beat so fast and Natsu's whole body felt large and lit up. Warm, perfect.

He brushed their lips together again, hearing Gray's breath catch while Natsu's own heart seized in reply.

"You're my best friend," Natsu murmured against Gray's mouth. Pulling back slightly, they stayed near enough to lean their foreheads together.

A flinch had crossed Gray's face.

"No, Gray, that's a good thing. I'm saying you're the one person who is closer to me than anyone else. You're special. You're…someone I'll search town for when you're upset, and whose doorstep I'll wait on because I want to spend time with you, and who I'll actually apologize to because you're worth it."

"So it's…real?" Gray asked, fearful uncertainty in his eyes.

Gray had no idea how attractive he was when he was vulnerable.

"It's real," Natsu breathed. "I thought it was just…normal? To feel this way. I thought attraction would be something out of nowhere, but this feels like it's always been there."

Gray nodded against him, eyes closed and face relaxed. "Like I've always felt this way about you."

Thrills ran through Natsu. If he'd had any doubts, that would settle them: Gray's admission made him feel like he could float off the ground.

"Yeah," he said, smiling and closing his own eyes.

He felt it when Gray leaned in to kiss him again, and he let it happen, tilting his chin to find Gray's lips. Gray was more insistent this time, pressing harder and dragging at Natsu's lip with his own. When his teeth nipped at Natsu's bottom lip, Natsu couldn't breathe, and Gray made a noise that was much louder than before, more wanting this time, eager and certain.

Gray's fear was gone, and in its place was his old confidence: the bluffness of when they faced down monsters side by side. Natsu loved it; he found things curling in his belly at the feel of Gray's power pushing against his own, Gray's strong body rolling over him and straining as Gray shifted to suck on Natsu's neck.

"Oh," Natsu gasped.

He didn't know it could feel this way.

Gray's arms on either side of Natsu's head were corded and trembling, and Natsu ran his fingers up the ridges of muscle, smiling affectionately at the brown skin he was so familiar with. Gray growled and nibbled his earlobe, eliciting a gasp from Natsu, who found himself losing control over his body as amazing sensations swept through him.

"You," Gray sighed, slowing his movements and pressing a final kiss to Natsu's throat before laying carefully atop him, head on Natsu's chest. Natsu's arms came up around him, hand rubbing up and down Gray's spine as he cupped Gray's head and shuffled his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Gray hummed.

"L-Like th… I like this," Natsu said, surprised and somewhat pleased how much his voice shook. "I didn't realize."

"Me neither," Gray said. "I haven't felt this way about many people, and none of them felt it back."

"I do."

"I can tell," Gray sighed, warm against Natsu's skin.

Natsu squeezed him.

"How long?" Natsu asked. "Since we talked about…you, and everything?"

"Since you outed me?" Gray snorted, but it was friendly, not accusatory. "Yeah. Long before."

"Long? How long?"

"Awhile."

Natsu humphed. "I'll get a number out of you at some point."

"Not today," Gray said. "That would be too embarrassing."

Natsu laughed and held him tighter. After several long minutes of cuddles, Gray slid down against Natsu's side and tucked himself there, the pair of them curled around each other and holding each other.

"I like you," Natsu said.

"I like you, too."

"Wanna do something about that?"

"Haven't we just?"

"Want to do more?"

Gray stretched enough to look him in the eye. "What kind of more?"

Natsu smiled.

"The good kind."

"The…" Gray's voice faltered. "The boyfriend kind?"

"Yeah." Natsu searched his eyes. "If you want to? I'm not out to anyone or anything, but I really like you."

"Yeah," Gray smiled. "I want to. And I don't mind about your out-ness."

"You can out me to everyone in recompense," Natsu teased. "It would be fair."

"Maybe I will," Gray chuckled. "Maybe I'll just hold your hand in the middle of the guildhall and let people figure it out."

Smiling, Natsu pressed his face against Gray's neck.

"I wouldn't mind."


	26. Sex'ty-I Always Knew (Grats,Miksildart)

_Mika tells Gray about watching him figure out his identity, and Gray and Natsu her a very special bit of news. (Fic #5 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = That's when I knew + trans and gay.

This is so. much. fluff.

* * *

 **I Always Knew**

You are twenty-nine, Gray, walking in the door, home for the holidays. And I know. I already know.

I can't say I always knew—as if from infancy there were some sign as to your preferences and gender. But from a young age, before anyone else noticed anything, it was clear to me that you were not going to be what people expected.

That they should expect anything of a toddler is absurd anyway.

The point is, Gray, that my carrying you those nine months did not mean nothing. You are forever my baby, and I know you.

It started when we met the Dragneels.

You were three years old, and you and their son Natsu were instant best friends. You ran around waving sticks and fighting off invisible dragons and youkai. His father was a particular encourager of this play. 'Uncle Igneel' you learned to call him, and the pair of you would run around, him pretending to be a dragon and you two trying to slay him—stealing ice cubs and slipping them down his collar, or putting hot sauce in his hot cocoa.

You two egged each other on, and when you were together, there was always trouble.

"You have such adorable boys," people would tell me when we were out, the pair of you hanging off my grocery cart and trying to win your made-up competitions.

"Er, boy and girl," some people would say, looking again. You refused to let your hair grow out, and we let you dress how you wanted, so people frequently couldn't figure out which you were.

"Children," I would correct them.

You were five when you came into the kitchen one day and said, "Mom, I have something to tell you."

"What's up?" I asked, smiling at your serious little face.

"I'm a boy from now on."

Natsu wandered into the kitchen after you, peering between us through his blonde hair. He gazed at you with seriousness, but I'll never forget how he was neither surprised nor confused. He just nodded, took your hand, and looked at me.

"Okay?" he confirmed, since I still hadn't answered you.

"Okay," I said, smiling and looking back into your big dark eyes. "Thank you for letting me know."

And that was it. You smiled, Natsu pulled your hand, and the pair of you went running off to slay more monsters.

I've never told you this, but I had a chat with your fathers before you officially told them.

"Gray told me _he_ feels like a boy," I said, drawing them into the other room. We could hear your two exuberant shouts in the backyard as you raced to see who could make their swing go higher.

"Oh," Gildarts said, looking mildly surprised in that way he has.

Silver said nothing.

"We're going to normalize this," I said. "I don't want her— _him_ thinking he can't tell us anything. That includes," here I gave Gildarts the eye, "not making a big _happy_ deal out of it, either. I want it to be totally fine and normal for Gray to decide and re-decide who…he wants to be."

It took a little effort, but I was starting to get the hang of 'he.'

"Okay," Gildarts said. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Of course, Mika." Silver's little frown now revealed itself to be one of confusion—confusion that I would think anything else. "It _is_ normal. It should be normal. So…'he'?" he clarified.

"Yes."

We called you in for dinner and the pair of you huddled together on the bench like usual, sitting so close you were bumping elbows and happily bickering throughout the meal.

I think I had an inkling then about your sexuality, too.

I definitely wasn't surprised by the gender. As the months passed and you didn't make any other changes, I came to realize how absolutely normal this had always been. As if, ever since you were born, your behaviors and moods had been indicating to me that I had a son, not a daughter.

It ended up not being something you had to try on at all: you knew your gender with surety and it has never changed. I am so incredibly thankful for that, honestly. The world is hard on people who are still figuring themselves out.

But you knew, and you had Natsu with you to defend you, too.

When the kids at school found out about you, one of them mocked you, and you punched him in the face.

The principal was going to punish you. Not the other boy. Because while that language 'would not be tolerated' and 'we'll deal with it,' that actually meant giving a calm talking-to about bullying; nothing about respecting others, about the validity of identity, about any of it.

What you told the principal—and me—was that he swung first. Natsu staunchly defended you, and nobody else spoke up to say otherwise, so they took your word.

The other boy got punished instead of you. And nobody ever teased you to your face again.

I know all this because Natsu told me: he admitted to the lie pretty quickly. "It wasn't right," he told me, face so sincere. "They should've actually inspected all the facts. The other boy was the real culprit."

(You both were very into mysteries at that point, and it was apparent in your vocabulary.)

He's always been like that, hasn't he? Ready to take a hit for you, lie for you, get in trouble with you. You've both proven that plenty. I think your principal had us on speed-dial.

That so-called friendship of yours has not been a friendship for a long time now. It was clear to me early on that you two had the potential for something special. When you were eight, remember how I caught you kissing? 'On a dare,' supposedly. When you were nine, Natsu cried because you weren't on the same football team. He perked up when you told him you could both be center forwards this way, and see who scored more goals on each other's team.

When you were eleven, the pair of you were playing outside like you had a thousand times when I heard that shout no parent wants to hear:

" _Mom!"_ screamed with so much fear.

Natsu had tripped and hit his head. We had to call an ambulance, and I was so scared, seeing all that blood. I was also scared for you, because you couldn't stop crying, stop screaming into my shirt. I was so afraid something terribly permanent had happened to Natsu, and what terribly permanent things that would do to _you,_ too.

You didn't want to be separated from him, and we ended up practically following the ambulance to the hospital, where you jittered and waited and begged to see him.

Eventually you were allowed to see him through a window, glass between you while he slept in swaths of bandage and you pressed your face to the plex.

At that, you sobbed so hard it scared the nurses.

When he was finally allowed to go home, they'd said he shouldn't get too much stimulation—his brain was still hurt—and I passed the news onto you gently. It was just for a week.

I was not surprised when I found your bedroom window open.

I called Igneel to apologize but there was a whimsical smile in his voice. He told me he'd found the pair of you curled up napping in Natsu's bed.

"Natsu was scared of falling asleep," he told me. "He heard someone say people with brain injuries die in their sleep, and even though I told him he was okay, he's been trying to keep himself awake ever since we got home. So if it's okay with you, we'll keep Gray for now. He can sleep over—I'll make sure he gets to school tomorrow."

The pair of you were inseparable.

At thirteen, you and Natsu were in your final year of middle school, and I was desperately trying not to think about how my baby would be in high school next year. You'd started asking about going on testosterone, and we'd found a good doctor and were researching puberty blockers and what would be healthy.

Your fathers and I realized we needed to have a talk with you about how your body would react to others.

We'd been giving you sex talks every few years as you became mature enough for new information (I say 'we' but it was mostly Silver and me; Gildarts has always been squeamish, despite being in an unconventional relationship himself). But this time was different.

You'd started getting embarrassed sometimes about talking to us, reaching that stage where you strained for independence, so we agreed it should be me taking the first run, as the one who knew the most about our type of anatomy.

I sat you down and we talked about it: how pleasure works, the clitoris, what it feels like to like someone and get turned on, touching oneself, all of it.

And then I looked at you, and I said, "Gray."

You met my gaze, hearing my seriousness. In that moment, I saw a scared but self-determined young adult who I could no longer protect.

"I know there are things I won't understand," I said. "There are probably parts of our anatomy that make you uncomfortable, and I've never felt dysphoria, and so I know that the advice I can give you is only second-hand.

"But," I said, feeling your gaze glued on my face, "it seems to me that you might have a…preference for boys, and if that's the case, there's something specific I want to talk to you about."

I could _feel_ your blush now.

"It is okay if as you become sexually active you decide penetrative sex is not for you. That is totally okay, and as with anything else, if anyone tries to pressure you, run the other way. But if you decide there are only some kinds of penetration you're okay with," I stuttered—but no, I needed to get this out, "like if you decide you're okay with anal but not vaginal intercourse, or vice versa, that is also an acceptable choice.

"I know we've never talked directly about toys, but if one day you and your partner decide you want _you_ to…be the one penetrating your partner, there are ways to do that and objects that make that possible. I have," I coughed, "done this sort of thing before, so if you have questions about what or how or which or where, feel free to ask. I'll just give you this tip: start with something smaller. And remember to wash between uses and when switching between the two of you. I think we've covered all of the safety stuff before."

You nodded.

Blowing out a breath, I put my hands on my knees.

"That was kind of intense." I waited until you met my eyes through your hair, longer and unruly now, and gave you a smile. "Want some ice cream?"

You nodded, finally getting your voice to work. "Sure."

"And we will absolutely _not_ use this as an opportunity to talk about blowjobs," I teased.

"Mom!"

A few weeks later, Silver took you aside and gave his side of things, talking about the anatomy you were less familiar with and ways of taking care of partners.

And maybe it was because of those conversations that you didn't feel the need to tell us right away when you knew you were gay.

When you did, we treated it the same way we had your gender: normally.

Since you made the effort to tell us, we made the effort back, asking how you felt, if you felt safe, if it was hard to figure out. You told us, blushing but also confident in yourself, that you simply realized you'd never found a girl attractive.

"Maybe I will one day," you said. "But…that's still kinda gay, isn't it?"

From your smile, we knew this was a joke, and we all laughed, Gildarts hardest.

"This is the gayest family ever," he grinned.

How true.

Like most teenagers, you didn't tell us about your first crush until after the fact. You did not tell us when you first started dating. You waited until a few months had gone by, on your first football match of junior year.

Natsu arrived in his beat-up pickup to take you both to the game, cleats slung over his shoulder when he appeared at the door.

"Hey, Mrs. Fullbuster," he said, cheerful as always.

I gave him a look. "Natsu, we've known each other long enough you can call me Mika."

I remember that that conversation happened then, because he blushed, knowing what I did not about his relationship with you. _Neither_ of us knew yet what he would come to mean to me—that he would come to mean even more to our family than he already did.

You ran up still pulling your jersey over your head. The part of me that freaked out at you being shirtless had disappeared long ago.

Natsu wrapped an arm around your waist. It wasn't that that was odd, because you'd always been physical with each other. But perhaps it was the odd timing; something made me notice it this time. The way he held you. The way you leaned into him.

"Later, Mom," you said, kissing my cheek. "Bye, Dad! Bye, Pap!"

"Kick their asses!" Silver called.

And you disappeared out the door.

An hour later, we followed, reaching the field in time to catch good seats right up close.

It was a good match, against the school who'd beaten you every year before. We watched every pass, cheered and booed, Silver the loudest. Gildarts and I had always loved the sport, and we'd gotten Silver into it begrudgingly, but now he was the most avid of the three of us.

It was more intense this year—you were varsity now, and we could feel it thrumming through the air.

It came to the end, both teams tied, and that already felt wonderful. We watched, the clock almost run out, as Natsu took the ball up the field, passed to you, you dodged their defense—and kicked it right past their keeper.

We lost our heads, and so did everyone around us, our cheers drowned out by the shouts from your teammates. Victory ran thick and sweet through the air, and I felt one of those wonderful moments where I think, _This is my boy. Look at what he can do, world. Just watch._

One of your teammates lifted you up and we caught a glimpse of you across the field, beaming that wide, toothy smile that's rare on your serious face. He put you down, all of you jumping and thumping each other's shoulders and exclaiming, and in the midst of that, you grabbed Natsu and the pair of you hugged so tight you looked glued together.

You made your way back to the edge of the field as people filed out of the stands. We fought against the crowd and made our way down. You hadn't seen us yet. Your eyes were on Natsu, the pair of you panting and grinning.

You pulled him in and kissed him on the lips.

Silver was surprised. He's a bit of a dunce about these things. Me, I felt that warm knowing feeling a mother gets.

Gildarts, of course, wolf-whistled.

You two broke apart going redder than the opposing team's shirts.

"Some kiss!" he exclaimed. "Man, have you been practicing?"

At which point you punched him in the arm.

"Shut up, Pap!"

Natsu was laughing his head off.

"I was gonna tell you, Mom," you mumbled to me, smiling when I gave you a one-armed hug.

There was some fear in me, I admit—I can't help it, Gray: I'm your mom. I was worried what others would think, with such a blatant show of affection right there, in a place that can be steeped in toxic masculinity. But your teammates totally accepted you; apparently someone had come out a few years before and there had been a talk, and football was now the proud gay sport. (Something about 'dribbling balls.' Silver choked on his drink when he heard that one.)

You and Natsu were happy and cuddly and adorably sweet to each other. You went on your first real date, now with parental backing (and financing), and came back looking like the sun had burst across your entire world.

It was a fun two years, as the pair of you took advanced classes and played a stellar season and applied to colleges and entered your final semester in a flurry of games and homework and making out in your bedroom when you thought we didn't know.

We didn't mind. We trusted you to make safe choices.

What we did worry about was how you'd handle university with him. It was unlikely you'd get in at the same schools, and inadvisable to choose a school based on a high school sweetheart, no matter how close. No matter how much we loved Natsu, we wanted you to make the best decision for you.

But we needn't have worried.

"I got in!"

You burst into my room on a Friday morning. I tried not to groan as some figment of dream slid out of my head.

"What's up, honey?"

"I checked the mail, and look, Mom! I got in!"

You waved the paper in front of my nose like that would make me take it in faster, and I caught the words of the header.

"MIT?" Suddenly I was a lot more awake. "You're going to MIT?"

"You bet your fucking ass—oops, sorry. You bet! This was my first choice. I'm gonna go tell them!"

And you exploded out of my room, whereupon I heard you pounding on Gildarts and Silver's door.

In that quiet moment, I thought: I wonder if Natsu got the same letter.

I'll admit, a tiny bit of me wanted that to happen. But no, he hadn't even applied there. He was going to the state university.

"It has the program I want," he told me very seriously at the kitchen table, eating cereal by the bowlful after school. "And Dad can afford it."

"What program?" I asked.

So he told me all about his plans for the future. I watched him swiping blonde hair from his eyes, laughing at his own words, being so cheerful about _everything_ , and I thought: gods, I love this boy.

This _man._ You were men now. Going off on your own.

That night, I approached you about your own dreams. You were all too happy to talk about it. The future you wanted, your plans for study.

"So what are you and Natsu going to do?" I asked at an appropriate pause.

"We'll do long-distance," you said, and shrugged, as if it were that easy. "We won't be that far. Maybe we can take the train to see each other, if we have time during the semester."

You were so confident. I decided to trust you, and walk you through heartbreak if it came to that.

All too soon it was summer, and you were packing.

"Do you have enough food?" I asked from the doorway to your room, watching you and Natsu sort camp gear.

"Mom, we'll be fine," you sighed. This is what we'd come to: _you_ reassuring _me._ We're a long way from the days where you'd have a nightmare and I'd cradle you to my chest.

We watched the pair of you drive off to the mountains for a final hurrah of the summer. A final hurrah before the rest of your lives.

As I walked back into the house, I caught sight of a double frame on the mantle: one photo of you two as toddlers, grinning toothily up, and another from early senior year, the pair of you cuddled close and grinning privately at the camera. I had to bribe you to let me put that one up, do you remember? It's still one of my favorites.

The years have slipped past: you got your degree, Natsu moved abroad for a year, he moved back and the pair of you moved in together…

And now you're here in the front doorway taking my hand, that classic serious look on your face. It can't hide the smile, the happiness that beats across your flushed cheeks. The winter cold is in your fingers as you grip my hand tightly.

"Mom," you say, your first words as you come in. "We have something to tell you all."

You glance at Natsu, whose arm is around your waist, and the look you exchange is so full of love that I just about melt for joy. This is what I've always wanted for you. To see you so loved, so in love, so happy, so sure.

"Where's Dad and Pap?" you ask.

I nod my head at the kitchen, where we can hear Igneel laughing loud and deep.

"Good," Natsu says. "The whole family."

You take off your coats and we walk into the warm room full with the scents of Christmas.

"Guys," you say, "we have something we'd like to tell you."

"Hello to you, too," Igneel chuckles.

It's like you don't even hear. You look at each other and smile.

I know. I already know.

"We're getting married," Natsu says, still staring into your eyes like you're the most beautiful thing in the world.

You grin around at us and our varying levels of shock. I'm smiling, Silver is nodding, Gildarts gapes, and Igneel blinks before laughing.

"That's fantastic," he says. "Holy shit! That's totally fantastic."

"Congratulations," I whisper, taking your hand. My baby is getting married. "I love you."

Your eyes are warm and bright. "I love you too, Mom."

"When did you decide?" Gildarts asks.

"Last summer," Natsu says, flush with merriment. "That's when we started talking about it."

"There was…my job," you break in, pinching your brow. "We weren't sure where I'd end up…"

"You can work around that," Igneel says with certainty.

"We don't have to." You look around. "That's our other bit of news: I got a job here in town. Natsu already put in for a transfer. We'll be returning local."

Our exclamations are, if possible, just as excited at this. I am thinking about the possibility of grandchildren and trying _desperately_ to keep from saying anything. I see Igneel doing the same.

Our talk carries us into hypotheticals and jubilance and eagerness of all kinds, until Silver finally says, "Let's get this dinner going."

We all chip in to carry dishes out to the table, and we all sit at our usual spots. You and Natsu are smashed together on the little bench, and it's a good thing you like each other so much, because it is definitely not big enough for you two anymore. Luckily you're grown-ups now, and navigate such that Natsu, who is left-handed, sits on the left and you on the right. You both eat with one hand, other arms bumping in constant affection.

Gildarts starts to dig in, but Silver stops him with a kiss on the cheek.

"It's Christmas," he reminds us. "Blessing first."

It's an old family tradition that survived our rejection of the religion we were raised with.

"I think the woman of the house should do it," Gildarts says, looking to me.

We bow our heads, and I beam thinking of the pair of you next to me.

"We call a blessing on this meal," I begin, "on this night, and on this company. We call a blessing on the new family soon to be created. We call a blessing on our children, and pray they forever have as much love to give each other as we have for them."


	27. Sexuality - Word for That (Frax,Granajn)

_Cana doesn't know who to crush on. Laxus commiserates. (Fic #6 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = There's a word for that + bisexuality. Genderqueer Freed.

The Cana-Laxus bro-ship felt right.

* * *

 **There's a Word for That**

Cana sighed, chin on her fists on the guild bar, eyes flitting from Mirajane to Gray.

Laxus sat down on the stool beside her.

"Pretty, eh?" he said conversationally.

Cana coughed and stared at him.

"Pardon?"

He nodded in the general direction of where Mira was serving Gray a drink and chatting with him. "Quite something to look at."

"Yeah," Cana said, sullen.

"Which one is it?" Laxus asked. "Or is it both?"

"Huh?"

"Gray or Mira?"

"Umm…" Cana looked at him in confusion. "I haven't decided."

"You can be attracted to multiple people," he laughed. "Or most people can. Sexual attraction isn't constrained to monoamory, even if we choose to constrain our relationships."

"Mm." For some reason this hadn't occurred to her. "Mira's gorgeous, but Gray is also hot? I don't know. I look at her and think: she's sweet, funny, powerful, and can hold her own in a fight. But then I see him and think: he's sincere, always learning, can also hold his own, and has a damn fine body. Of course, she does too. Her thighs. His arms. Damn."

Gods, it made her wet looking at either one of them. And that was fucking uncomfortable, thank you very much. It's not like she had extra undergarments at the guild. Fucking turn-ons.

Laxus nodded sagely, eyes flicking between the two mages in question.

"I can agree with all of that. Gray isn't my type, but he's definitely attractive. And Mira is kind enough it makes up for any lack of curves."

"You like women with some weight?" she teased, smiling.

"Yeah. Oddly enough, not men, though. I don't know why that is."

"You're saying…you have two different types?"

"Guess so. At least two."

Cana turned her stool fully to face him, searching his expression. Laxus looked open and honest, and it bewildered her.

"How does that work?" she asked.

"I don't know. How does any attraction work? It just is."

"But…both of them."

"Not to mention a number of other people I could name."

"Freed," she snorted.

"Obviously," he blushed. "You're not so bad yourself."

"So you like men _and_ women? At the same time?"

"Duh," he said.

"But…that means you're gay but also not. Simultaneously."

"I'm bi, Cana. Thought that was pretty obvious."

Cana stared at him.

"There's a word for that?"

"Well, yeah. It's a real thing that exists, so it needed a name. Bisexuality, depending on who you talk to, can mean 'men and women' or 'my gender and all other genders.' I take the latter."

"Obviously: Freed."

"Yep."

She liked the way his cheeks reddened and a smile twitched his lips any time they said Freed's name.

"Bisexual," she mused, watching the blush spread down his neck as he glanced the other way down the hall to search out Freed. Freed was another good-looking individual. Just because he was taken didn't mean she couldn't appreciate that. So was Lucy, who was talking animatedly to him and gesturing with her hands, her eyes lit with that curiosity and love of knowledge that was half the reason Cana loved her.

"Fuck," she muttered. "There's so many attractive people."

"Welcome to the bisexual's dilemma," Laxus nodded. "How to deal with life when everyone you know has the potential to turn you on."

Cana groaned. "I'm not sure whether to love you or hate you for giving me a word for this."

Laxus chuckled.

"You're welcome, dumbass."


	28. Sexuality-What We Are (diamoric)(Gratsu)

_Gray and his datemate Natsu are cosplaying at the Renaissance Faire, but take a break to do mischief…staying in character all the while. (Fic #7 for When We Take Different Paths sexuality week.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = This is who we are + diamoric. **Explicit.**

This is 100% in splendidlyimperfect's honor because they found 1600s sex slang and this is what happened when we stayed up too late.

* * *

 **This is What We Are**

Gray groaned against his partner. Natsu was thrusting hard against him, the brick wall digging into Gray's back, and his leather vest only did a little to soften the hard corners.

Not that Gray was about to complain. With Natsu's hands where they were, he hardly had time to notice things like brick walls.

"Mm, my lord," Natsu hummed, feigning surprise as their palm slid over the front of Gray's trousers. "Touch of the duke?"

"Maybe," Gray panted, relishing the feeling as Natsu's fingers made sinfully quick work of his shirt buttons.

"I've been feeling like changing my costume," Natsu murmured in their usual voice, still grinding against him as they whispered in Gray's ear. "The dress doesn't feel like me anymore. Which is why I brought breeches, after all."

Gray played with the elaborate ties up the back of the gown. "Means you have to undress."

Natsu glanced around the little alleyway they found themselves in, Ren Faire tents obscuring them from view.

"I do indeed," they said.

Stepping away from Gray's embrace, Natsu reached back and began to unfasten their outer layers. They watched Gray as they did so, expression taunting and seductive, sliding the shoulders of the dress down with a sensual shrug. They looked bashfully to the side as they pulled down their underlayers to reveal their chest, and Gray's cock gave a hard throb at the display.

"Fuck, I love you," he said.

Natsu smiled.

When they were down to petticoats, they slid these down their thighs, letting their cock spring free in another tantalizing show. Gray nearly gasped seeing that hard, red dick bobbing in his direction.

"Mmm, Natsu," Gray groaned. "Put your trout where I want it."

Natsu pressed in close, rutting against Gray's breaches, which were still on. Gray watched a dot of precum from Natsu's cock mark the front of his trousers, and he felt a telltale twinge run through his body.

"Fuck me," Gray said, brain whiting out and period terminology fleeing him. "Please…"

"What is that…the fifth time you've asked me to today?" Natsu whispered in Gray's ear. Their bodies weren't touching, but Gray could feel Natsu's warmth, knew if Natsu just moved a little closer…

Natsu stripped him with proprietary speed, and soon Gray was bending over naked against the brick wall, hands braced while Natsu fingered him and slid their cock up and down against his ass.

"In," Gray muttered. "In."

"I'm coming," Natsu said, tip poking against him and making Gray shiver. "Or I will be soon."

Gray's knees just about gave out.

He was shaking when Natsu slid into him, cock thick and hard and so fucking _big_ inside him. Gods, they hadn't done this without lube or condom in a while, and while Gray was still stretched from their enthusiastic fucking this morning (once in the shower and once on the bed while 'getting dressed'), he felt the squeeze and wondered like usual how on earth Natsu fit in there.

"I'm gonna…miss your heavers," Gray said, thinking of the padded bralette and shift on the ground as Natsu moved inside him. He gasped. "But in breeches, you'll be able to bop me easier."

"Yeah," Natsu said, grin in their voice. "All I have to do is push your breeches down a bit, unlace mine, and I can occupy you anytime you like."

"Gods, Natsu…"

Natsu's naked skin against Gray's was comforting, their intimacy with his body a relief.

"I—love," Natsu eked out, "playing at all fours with you—gods…"

They thrust against him and wrapped Gray close as their body jerked with pleasure.

So fast, Gray nearly said, proud of how quickly he could get Natsu off, but he was breathing too hard.

The pair had a minute of wondrous aching closeness, panting and gripping each other, before Natsu pulled out carefully and then flipped Gray around to press him to the wall.

"Do you have a bauble for me?" they taunted, running their fingers lightly up his cock.

Gray shivered.

"Y-Yes. Yes please."

Natsu never did anything by halves, and when they sank down and took Gray between their lips, they took as much of him as they could fit. Gray moaned and closed his eyes, enjoying the rush up his insides as Natsu sucked him and laved hard at his tip.

Letting pleasure fall forcefully from his body some minutes later, Gray sank back against the brick and let his partner rise and curl against him.

"Love you," Natsu murmured, kissing his chest and leaning their forehead on the spot.

"Same," Gray murmured back. "And I love…"

"Yes?"

"How you change; how I never know what's coming next. I love how you're everything and none."

"You're so gay," they snorted, running their fingers over his chest.

"Diamoric," Gray corrected proudly. "That's what I am."

"You're Natsusexual," they said with a grin.

Gray huffed.

"If that means I get to love my genderfluid asshole partner, sure."

Natsu laughed.

After a few more minutes, they heard sounds growing louder in a nearby tent.

"We should probably get dressed," Natsu said, glancing around their secluded spot.

"I suppose."

"You like being naked."

"Why not?" Gray shrugged. "Like I said before: easier to play at bob-in-joe."

Natsu grinned. "You're really getting into character, aren't you?"


	29. Spooky - I Dare You (Canajane)

_Mira's dress is a work of art that Cana can't stop staring at. Mira has other ideas for what Cana can do. (Antepenultimate fic for When We Take Different Paths! There are special "Spooky Tales" prompts these last 3 days.)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = I dare you to go down there. Canajane. **Explicit.**

* * *

 **I Dare You**

"Holy shit."

Cana stared at her girlfriend's costume, stopping in the doorway as she gaped.

"You look good," Mira said, eager eyes tracing up and down Cana's figure. "You're an awfully slinky black cat."

"It's not the sexy cat costume," Cana protested, blushing. "I'm a regular cat."

"Maybe that's _why_ it's so attractive. I don't see patriarchy: I just see your gorgeousness."

"Mira," Cana groaned in embarrassed pleasure, clapping a hand over her eyes.

Mira laughed and came to hug her, the pair cuddling together out of the way. The party was typical of their friends: alcohol-free, spook-free (Natsu had screamed and panicked one year when Gray jumped out at him, and they'd vetoed scary stuff from then on), and totally made up in the mood. Black and white curtains, orange-colored lights, and a convenient dark corner where two girlfriends could find themselves alone.

"Seriously though." Cana had returned to appreciating Mira's dress. "How in hell did you do this?"

"Cloth scraps, a bit of cardboard, and a whole lot of time."

Mira wore what had once been a plain black dress, but she had turned it into a spooky mansion worthy of Bruce Wayne. A path wound up the front of the long skirt, skulls and ravens dotting the yard. At her navel the path met a gate with golden knockers, the mansion spreading up across her torso and chest. There were ghosts in the windows and skeletons on the parapets, their bony arms marking the open neckline. Cana noted a black cat in a window right over Mira's nipple.

Tantalizing.

"It looks so real," Cana breathed. "I'm serious, Mira. This is a work of art."

Mira giggled and flushed, grinning behind her hand as Cana continued to stare.

"Jesus, and the pathway…damn."

"I—I dare you to go down there," Mira said.

Cana looked up. "Down…"

"Down there," Mira said, seduction replacing embarrassment. "Door's open, Cana. You're a black pussy, aren't you? You know what to do."

Cana licked her lips and hummed, moving in as if to kiss Mira's neck before diving lower and pressing kisses in her cleavage.

Mira gasped.

"Cana," she whispered desperately. Hungrily.

Cana knelt, lifting the edge of Mira's skirt and sliding her hands up Mira's calves to her thighs. Wide-eyed, Mira watched what she was doing raptly.

Cana pushed Mira's skirt up to her hips and found what lay beneath the mansion's door.

"Mm, I like it," Cana said, running her fingers over sheer black underwear.

"D-Do you?" Mira stuttered, legs tensing at the touch.

"Yeah." Fuck, she could smell Mira. The scent of pleasure and play. She knew Mira was wet. Wet for Cana. Wanting her. "Does the top match?"

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing it," Mira groaned.

" _Fuck._ Nothing?"

"Just the dress."

Cana shivered. A strong part of her wanted to drag her girlfriend into the nearest room and strip down.

Mira was also incredibly sexy like this, costume covering most of her; red-faced and breathless and barely out of sight in their dark corner of the party.

"I want you," Cana growled.

When she pressed her tongue to the fabric, she expected to taste cloth, but Mira's distinct flavor came through too, making Cana clench her legs together as a spike of pleasure hit her.

She began to suck at the fabric, pressing her tongue to the hot crevices of Mira's body which she knew intimately. Mira seemed to be getting even more stimulation from this than normal, arching her head back and gasping, thrusting her hips at Cana's face.

The rough material of Cana's cat costume scratched at her chest, and she realized her nipples were hard from making Mira come undone like this.

Pussycat. Arching an eyebrow, Cana bore down on Mira's clit and slipped a finger into the sheer underwear to brush over Mira's cunt.

"Fuck," Cana hissed. Mira was so wet she was almost dripping. Cana's finger slid into her almost without meaning to. Squeezed in Mira's stuttering vagina, Cana curled her finger and pressed around for the spot that Mira always took particular pleasure in, somewhere right—

Whether she found it or her sucking was just too intense, Mira's whole body tightened and the undulations of her hips changed to sharp jerks. Grabbing Cana's head, Mira pressed against her mouth hard, her eyes closed and lips parted, red and swollen from biting them.

"Fuck, Cana," Mira whispered, sounding like she'd just run ten miles. "Holy shit."

"I really like making you come while you're still clothed," Cana murmured, rising shakily to her feet. She discovered she was still quite turned on herself.

Leaning against Mira and tucking her head against Mira's neck, Cana reached into her pants with the same finger that had just been in Mira's cunt and rubbed at herself, trembling at the stimulation.

"Oh gods," Mira groaned, arms folding around Cana as she followed her gaze down.

They both watched as Cana's hand moved in her trousers, pleasure growing, until Cana was rubbing so hard, so close, needing it.

"Is your finger still wet from me?" Mira whispered in her ear.

Oh fuck, yes, it had been. Cana had touched herself with the finger that had fucked Mira, had smeared herself with Mira's turn-on…

Cana threw her head back when she peaked, mouth open against Mira's neck.

"Oh gods," she whimpered over and over. "Oh gods."

Smiling, Mira pulled her close so they were leaning against the wall together. Their clothes were misarranged but they were both covered, enough that it wouldn't be awkward if someone found them here. Although their sweaty faces would tell right away what they'd been doing.

"Love you," Mira whispered in her ear.

"I like," Cana panted, "where your path leads."

Humming, Mira kissed her lips, Cana realizing how sore her mouth was, but she kissed back anyway, enjoying how gentle Mira was after their enthusiasm before.

"Maybe I can pet this pussy later," Mira murmured in her ear. "I do know a thing or two about how kitties like to be touched."

Cana groaned. "Maybe we should claim a stomachache and go home early," she said.

Mira smiled. "I'm okay with that."

* * *

 **A/N:** Comments much appreciated! They keep us writers going. ^-^


	30. Spooky - Ghostly On My Skin (Fraxus)

_Freed is enjoying how affectionate Laxus is being…and decides chaining Laxus to a headstone could be fun. (Penultimate fic for When We Take Different Paths!)_

 **A/N:** Prompt = "Making out in a graveyard?" + Fraxus.

* * *

 **Ghostly Against My Skin**

They were passing between gravestones when Laxus suddenly came up against Freed's back.

"Hi," Freed said, a little confused, turning enough to meet Laxus's eye. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Laxus curled up against him. "Good."

"I don't think we're going to find her here," Freed said.

The crypt they sought housed a woman of high rank who, apparently, wasn't actually dead. She'd been put in a death-like magical coma during her wife's false imprisonment. Now that the whole plot had been revealed and the wife released, they'd had to chase down the perpetrators and wrangle the location of the woman from them. It left them with one tiny town to search…which of course boasted three giant cemeteries.

"It's sad," Laxus hummed.

"It is," Freed agreed.

"Don't let anyone put you under like that, okay?"

Freed chuckled. "Considering it's rune magic that does it, I doubt someone would be able to pull this on me. And you would just explode if anyone tried to put _you_ in a coma."

Laxus laughed softly against Freed's ear.

When the Dragon Slayer leaned closer, Freed felt the length of Laxus's body and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you…excited?"

Only an experienced observer of Laxus would see the faint pink in his cheeks.

"Maybe. Sorry."

Freed smiled. "Don't apologize."

It was Laxus's turn to raise an eyebrow.

Smiling, Freed slithered around and kissed him, fingers sliding into his hair and gripping tightly. The bulge in Laxus's trousers pressed against his hip.

"Love you," Freed whispered. "A hell of a lot."

"Mm, love you, too," Laxus hummed against his lips. "Making out in a graveyard? This is a new one."

"Even for us."

"Yeah," Laxus said, mouth curved up in a smile which Freed soundly kissed. "I like it."

"Do you?" Freed glanced at him.

Laxus's voice was a rumble of interest. "What do you like?"

Freed's pulse spiked immediately.

Leaning in to bite Laxus's ear, he whispered, "Can I play?"

"Yes," Laxus said.

With his free hand, Freed reached around Laxus's back to pull him closer, finger weaving subtly through a familiar pattern.

There was a clank and Laxus, who had been about to raise his arms and embrace Freed more properly, tugged on the restraints suddenly around his wrists.

"Oo." Laxus glanced down at where Freed had magically manacled him to a tombstone. "I _really_ like that."

"I'm glad," Freed hummed, fisting Laxus's hair and pulling gently to the side. His breath was coming faster and he could feel his blood running hot. Before he got too caught up in the feeling, he asked, "What's allowed today?"

Laxus licked his lips. "Can I struggle?"

Freed grinned and nodded.

"And if you _really_ want me to stop—"

"I know," Laxus interrupted. "Now show me what you want from me."

"Mm. In a minute."

Freed undid Laxus's buttons, pulling the shirt down Laxus's arms. It couldn't come off over the runes around his wrists, but that worked in Freed's favor because it trapped Laxus's arms at his sides.

Laxus's eyes were fire and light, hungry as he watched Freed touch him, Freed running two fingers down Laxus's chest. Laxus strained forward a little, but he couldn't get closer, and Freed found himself grinning. He loved this. Always had. Always would.

Dragging his finger back up again in a long, slow motion, Freed trailed to Laxus's nipple and circled around it, feeling Laxus's warmth, the way his chest moved in and out with his inhales, the tension of his muscles.

Laxus's nipple had drawn hard. Freed drew his fingers away, earning a small throaty noise, but instead he leaned in and bit the nub, Laxus's sound turning to a groan.

"Freed, hahhh…"

Freed reached for Laxus's trousers and very slowly unbuckled his belt.

"It's isn't always this way," he said, "but quite often when I realize you're hard, it makes me hard too."

"Reall— Oh, _gods._ " Laxus broke off into a groan as Freed wrapped each finger around Laxus's cock one by one, dragging up the length of him slowly and pulling him out of his briefs.

"Fuck," Freed muttered, undoing his own trousers with his other hand, needing extra space. Because _fuck,_ the sight of Laxus's cock definitely got a reaction out of Freed's body today.

He tightened his grip and began to stroke Laxus, quickly gaining momentum. Laxus was being loud now, and Freed found he didn't care. They leaned chest to chest, and Freed ducked his head to suck on the other nipple, raising a hicky around it and increasing the sound of Laxus's pleasure.

He loved that Laxus was so vocal.

When Laxus began trembling, body rutting hard into Freed's hand, the Dragon Slayer tensed and tried to draw back. Hampered by the tombstone, he attempted escape Freed's grip, trying to keep time with him instead, but Freed put a hand on his hip to hold him in place.

"Wait," Laxus said, "I'm close—ahh—and I don't want to come this early…"

"Maybe _I_ want you to come this early." Freed grinned, well aware Laxus had not used his safe word. And he said he wanted to struggle. So far Freed hadn't given him much to struggle against.

"But…" Laxus had stopped trying to get away from Freed's fingers, but his abs were tensing hard, pulling at his cock as he tried to resist pleasure.

"Would this help you come faster?" Freed asked, pulling his own cock out of his boxers with his other hand and stroking himself. "Oh _gods_ that feels good. Laxus. Look at what I'm doing."

Laxus had his eyes shut tight, so Freed left off the man's cock briefly to wrap a hand around his neck and pull his head down. Laxus watched Freed's hand flying over his own length and let out a strangled noise.

"Fuck me," he said shakily. "You're so hot."

"Could you come just watching me?" Freed asked.

"Yeah. But it's also easier for me to resist."

"Can't have that," Freed said, grinning and kissing the responding smile on Laxus's face.

Freed sank to his knees and went down on Laxus's cock again, cheeks hollowing as he went as deep as he could. Laxus's hips jerked and he arched his body, giving Freed a fantastic view up the muscled lines of him, then down to his balls hanging low and eager and beyond.

Still sucking hard, Freed left off touching himself—plenty of time for that later—in order to focus on the timbre of noises and the level of tension in Laxus's body. Laxus's breathing had a way of picking up right before he came, and when Freed heard him gasping—

He switched to his hands, one squeezing the head of Laxus's cock, and looked up at Laxus's face.

The Dragon Slayer's eyes were closed, arms straining against his restraints as he opened his mouth in a silent cry.

Freed jerked hard on his cock and Laxus released, gasping, " _Freeeed._ Gods; _Freed…_ "

Sucking on the inside of Laxus's thigh, Freed carefully removed his hands. He had Laxus's cum cupped in his palm, and he swiped it onto his fingers before reaching between Laxus's legs and sliding those fingers up his crack.

"Ahhh, fuck," Laxus groaned, knees shaking until he leaned back against the headstone.

"Indeed." Freed was almost painfully hard feeling the way Laxus's ass tightened against him, the way he had to push gently past the resistance, fingers made slippery with cum.

"These need to come down a bit further," Freed said, shuffling Laxus's trousers down past his knees, giving him far more room to probe between Laxus's thighs. "I need access."

"Are you…gonna fuck me?" Laxus asked.

Freed's cock jumped and he barely managed to reply, "I haven't decided. But it's why I got you off first."

"I thought that was just 'cause you like being in charge."

"I do," Freed murmured. He leaned in and sucked lightly on Laxus's balls, drawing them into his mouth, smelling Laxus's scent everywhere.

It was hard to be patient once he'd got a second finger into Laxus, and Freed stretched him despite Laxus's small noise of discomfort—he knew how much was too much and had long experience with this particular human being's body. His cock ached, and he wouldn't be surprised if he needed more room than usual to fit into his boyfriend. There was hard, and there was _I've-been-waiting-too-long-and-need-it-now_ hard.

Watching his fingers move in and out of Laxus's ass was pushing him farther toward the latter.

Finally removing his hand, Freed rose and kissed Laxus simply on the lips. They were both breathing rapidly, Freed the most, and they shared a smile.

"Made up your mind?" Laxus asked, nuzzling Freed's cheek in a way that was incredibly sensual.

Freed circled his arms around Laxus's waist, leaning his forehead on Laxus's chest for a moment and breathing in his scent.

There was a clink as the runic cuffs disappeared and Laxus startled against the headstone. He raised his eyebrows.

"Want you where I can see you," Freed breathed, cupping Laxus's face.

For a second, Laxus's eyes flicked closed and a look of peace passed over him.

He was so handsome.

"On the ground," Freed said.

Laxus followed the direction quickly. The earth was hard-packed and dry, bare of grass or shrubs, but Laxus lay down anyway, able to spread his shirt out and cushion it just a tiny bit.

Not that it would help much with what Freed planned to do.

"I'm going to be hard," he warned hoarsely, but Laxus just nodded, eyes glowing with excitement.

Crouching over Laxus on all fours, Freed kissed a line up his chest as Laxus slid his trousers off completely. When Laxus's hands graced Freed's sides, fingers on his ribs, Freed shivered.

"Whose grave do you think we're desiccating?" Laxus mused.

"Dunno, but I'm going to give them a great show," Freed panted as he parted Laxus's legs. "A nice break in their boredom, I'm sure."

Laxus laughed, which turned into a moan as Freed pushed his leg up and pressed his cock against Laxus's ass.

"F-Freed," Laxus said, breathy, his fingers tense and trembling on Freed's waist, and then Freed was pushing inside him, entering a baking pressure that took his breath away.

"Laxus! Fuck," Freed gasped, squeezing in tighter while Laxus panted and hurriedly adjusted. "Fuck, I need you. Fuck, fuck…"

"I love…feeling how hard you are inside me," Laxus grinned.

Hearing the roughness of his voice made Freed moan, a noise which went on and on as he pulled out of Laxus and slid back in.

"Oh, gods." Laxus's eyes widened, staring up at the twilit sky like he could see wonder in it.

All the universe was in Laxus's gaze.

Freed didn't bother trying to ease into rhythm; he was on edge and Laxus was dutifully relaxing his body, sighing as Freed's thrusts grew easier. He pulled out to his tip, the head of his cock screaming at the spasm of Laxus's muscles, then pushed back in again. The friction, in and out, it felt so good, right where Freed needed it, the thing he wanted delivered right up his dick.

"Fuck, Freed."

Hearing the desperate edge to Laxus's voice, Freed opened his eyes and saw Laxus's hand trail down the line of hair to his hardening cock.

"Again?" Freed panted. Laxus nodded.

A few gentle strokes had him at full mast again, and Laxus began to pull at himself in earnest, but Freed grabbed his wrists with a growl and pinned them on either side of Laxus's head.

"I want to do that," he said, hips still moving fast and straight, slapping Laxus's thighs on each entrance. "After I fuck you."

"Oh gods, okay, okay," Laxus groaned, "yes, gods…"

Freed was angled down now, slamming Laxus's hips against the earth with his thrusts. His cock felt so needy, so desperate for more.

At a particularly deep plunge, Laxus arched and bit his lip. It was so tantalizing: Freed treasured seeing him enjoying himself, and he also treasured the way Laxus's lip looked being bitten, red and swollen.

His hands were still on Laxus's wrists as he leaned down and took Laxus's mouth. They clashed in a mess of tongues and flurry of motion. Freed's pace had increased even more; pleasure shot from his cock all over his body; and he took Laxus's lip between his teeth and tugged on it, getting yet another moan.

"You're so easy," Freed hissed.

The words came out garbled, because at that same moment, Laxus arched and tightened around Freed's cock. Freed gasped.

All the air left his body as Laxus tensed around him. Freed merged into Laxus's body and let go.

The pleasure was overwhelming, washing over him and whiting out his senses. There was the rocking, the nudge of sweaty skin sticking as he finished himself off inside Laxus. Freed's hearing dimmed; as it came back he heard Laxus saying over and over, "Freed…Freed…"

Freed looked down as he pulled out, feeling like he was covered in sweat, and saw that his stomach was indeed quite wet—Laxus had come again.

"Just from that?" Freed asked, glancing up at him with eyes alight.

"It felt…so…"

"I'm glad," Freed sighed happily, sliding down beside him. They curled up together, Freed massaging Laxus's entrance and getting a grateful groan.

"You're going to leak the whole way back to the ryokan," Freed said.

Laxus snorted. "You're going to have dried cum on your hands the whole way back to the ryokan."

"Good point."

He licked his palm, aiming for the sticky spots while Laxus watched him closely. When Freed was done, Laxus kissed him.

"You fuck so well," Laxus sighed, pressing his face behind Freed's ear. "You're also fucking enormous."

"Thank you," Freed said with mock-haughtiness, then laughed. "Sorry. I was pretty hard on you this time."

"I don't mind," Laxus hummed.

Freed tilted his head. "Laxus. You're falling asleep, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Let's head back," Freed said, squeezing his hip. "You can sleep cuddled up to me all night."

Laxus's eyes blinked open. "You'd sacrifice good sleep for me?"

"I'll sacrifice anything for you," Freed said, and kissed him on the nose.


	31. Spooky - Succubus (Gratsu,Stingue)

_Gray, Natsu, Sting, and Rogue venture into a haunted cave on a dare, and encounter a monster they've only heard about in legend. Whoever is a virgin is the one who will be caught…and the scramble to_ not _be that person leads to a fight._

 _Last fic for When We Take Different Paths! Happy All Souls Day._

 **A/N:** Prompt = "The legend says it only goes after virgins, so sucks for you" + Gratsu and Stingue.

I dislike the baggage surrounding the concept of "virginity," but it was a great prompt idea.

* * *

 **The Succubus**

Rogue shivered as he stepped over the slippery rocks and down to another ledge. It was slow going, the wet stone dangerous in the cave's darkness. Sting was emitting some light, and Natsu's hair was glowing with small licks of flame, but it could only do so much.

Why they'd ever ventured down here in the first place—when they could just have easily gone _over_ the mountain—escaped him. Some stupidity of Sting's or Natsu's.

"Ow!" Sting exclaimed behind him, to the sounds of skidding. "Rogue! You didn't warn me it was slick."

"All of it is, Sting," Rogue said. "This whole hike you've been falling over."

Natsu snickered. Sting's huff meant a fight was about to break out.

"Don't even," Rogue growled.

From the rear Gray spoke up: "What's that?"

They all stopped.

Ahead of them on the path stood a tall archway, the stone lit from within. It had a creepy draw to it. It maybe that was just their obsession with danger.

Letters were carved across the top. In a huddle clump, they crept forward.

"Here dwelleth the succubus," Sting read.

"What's a succubus?" Natsu asked.

"It takes men's souls," Rogue said. "Through sex."

"Like incubi do with women," Gray put in.

Natsu burst out laughing. "There are youkai that fuck people…and then steal their souls?"

"Yep. During orgasm," Rogue said, flushing. "The soul is set free, and they steal it right at that moment."

"That's fucking creepy," Sting said, shivering. "So who's going first?"

They all looked at each other.

Nobody stepped toward the archway.

"It's in our path," Gray said. "We have to go through."

"That's true." Natsu's face set. "We have a job to do."

The pair edged toward the gate. Sting took a tentative step.

"Besides, legend has it they only go after virgins." Gray snickered and looked over at Sting and Rogue. "Sucks for you."

"Hey!" Sting burst out, raising a fist. "Who are you calling a virgin?"

"The one whose face is beet-red!" Natsu hollered in glee, and took off through the arch.

Gray dashed after him, Sting hot on his heels, and Rogue sighed before following.

Better see how the three idiots got out of trouble this time.

Their sprints burned out after a quarter mile, and then for a long time they simply hiked in the darkness, dripping stone and sleek blackness surrounding them just like it had before. Rogue felt alive in it, like he could swim through the very air, or as if his soul were free and loose within him.

He hoped that didn't draw the succubus.

"This is depressingly uneventful," Natsu said.

Something shrieked behind them.

They all whirled, but Sting's light winked out; Rogue could hear him cursing in the darkness and knew something had forced his magic down. There were curses and the sound of someone falling. Rogue felt a brush of wind behind him that was too unnatural and scentless.

Hearing someone strike out—it sounded like Gray's ice—Rogue slid into the shadows. It was like moving through water, the darkness thick and three-dimensional, a veritable playground for someone like him. Here he could see much better, and he could feel the shapes of things around him. Including the looming shape standing in their midst that was tall, gangly, and not remotely human.

Its four or five appendages flailed, tentacle-like and at random. The other three mages were beating it back as best they could without being able to see. From his vantage point, Rogue struck out and managed to cut off a limb, but the succubus grabbed his leg and he barely escaped, watching with dismay as the severed limb grew back.

So much for that.

Rogue made a few more hits, never seeming to wound it permanently, and tried to find an in to a more vulnerable part of its body. The flailing arms had a pattern now, aiming more and more at two people: him and Gray.

This made no sense, but more than that, it made him furious. How _dare_ it? The only person who got to sleep with him was Sting.

Sting was growling at the thing with teeth bared, looking fearsome. He was glowing again, and Natsu too—maybe that was it: the light. The thing was drawn to darkness. That was surely it.

"What the fuck?" Gray growled, dodging an arm and repelling it, only to be attacked by another.

Yeah, what the fuck?

Rogue felt his magic boiling inside him. Fuck succubi. Fuck all that virginity shit. He was going to win.

* * *

"Can't believe that took us fifteen fucking minutes," Natsu said, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell are we turning into?"

"That spirit was tough," Gray grunted. "I couldn't fucking _see_ anything."

"I had to figure out how to burn despite it blocking me," Natsu said.

"Same," Sting said, mouth twisting. "That's an evolutionary development for the books: the ability to stifle light magics."

"I quite like darkness," Rogue muttered.

"I know you do, love." Sting slung his arm around Rogue's shoulders. "But not all of us are as badass as you."

Rogue hmphed.

"So why the hell did it want me and not you?" Rogue asked him. "Do you think the light scared it?"

"It seemed to be focusing on us before they were alight," Gray put in.

Rogue was already blushing at the implications. "So…but why?"

"Well. Obviously." Natsu shrugged. "Some of us are more experienced."

"Not true," Gray burst out. "I've fooled around with a lot of people."

Somehow, that did not surprise Rogue. Gray was hot and tended to flaunt his body in front of young men.

"Yes, but how many did you fuck?" Natsu challenged.

"Depends how you define fucking—"

"But I _haven't_ slept around," Sting interrupted. He locked gazes with Rogue. "I've only been with you."

Rogue nodded.

"Wait," Natsu laughed, "so you've only been with each other, but for some reason it only counted Rogue as a virgin? I mean, doesn't that mean you guys have done all the same things?"

"Yeah," Rogue said.

"Ironic," Gray chuckled.

"Don't mock," Sting said. "It counted you as one too."

"Yeah, and I can't for the life of me figure out why." Gray glanced at his boyfriend. A private smile passed between them that Rogue pretended not to see.

"Rogue, we've…" Sting paused, then blustered on. "We've had sex. All kinds of ways. I guess I've topped and you haven't—"

"Alright, that's enough," Rogue put in hurriedly.

But Natsu snapped his fingers. "That might be it."

"Makes sense," Gray mused. "It sucks your soul out through your dick, right? So maybe it wants dicks that haven't been inside anyone else. Untouched cock only."

"I've touched your cock," Natsu grumbled.

"With your mouth," Gray grinned. "But to a succubus maybe that's not the same. Mouth versus ass? Apparently it has a prioritized list."

"Why the hell are we talking about this?" Rogue groaned, heat flushing up his neck.

"Because it's interesting," Sting piped up. "It's the same with us, babe. You've used your _fingers_ but not—"

"I think you've shared _plenty,_ " Rogue interrupted.

"Aw, is someone embarrassed?"

"Shut up," Rogue grumbled. He was now thinking of all the ways he _had_ fucked Sting, with fingers and tongue, and all the lovely times Sting had fucked him, including with cock, and he was blushing so hard he felt his head might ignite.

Natsu and Gray both snickered, which quickly turned into full-blown guffaws that Sting joined in, until all four of them were laughing uncontrollably. Gray collapsed against Natsu's shoulder, and Sting was slapping his thigh in hilarity. The laughter lasted for a long time, releasing pent-up emotion.

"Wow," Natsu said, wiping his eyes. "Well. Shall we finish the mission?"

They all nodded.

"Sounds good," Gray said. His voice slid to a whisper as he leaned into his boyfriend. "And tonight, it appears we have work to do…?"

"Gray-san," Sting said. "Everyone here but you is a Dragon Slayer and has _excellent_ hearing."

"Oh, fine," Gray said. He put out his chest. "Whatever. I'm proud."

"Me too," Natsu murmured, still totally in the hearing of everyone else. "And I definitely think you should fuck me."

Rogue rolled his eyes; it was so Gray and Natsu to discuss this in others' hearing and not care.

Suddenly Sting leaned in close to his ear and murmured, so quiet Rogue could barely hear, "Fuck me tonight, Rogue."

"What?" Rogue looked around. "Because of them?"

"No," Sting said, voice still low so Natsu couldn't hear. "I just don't want any more succubi getting ideas."

Rogue grinned, a mix of fondness and eagerness. "I like it when you get a smidge jealous."

Sting stuck his lip out and tried to look solemn.

"You're still fucking me tonight," Sting whispered. "I mean, if you want to—"

"Of course I want to."

"The idea is turning me on and at this point I'd really _really_ like to with you."

Rogue kissed his cheek. "I'd like to, too."

* * *

 **A/N:** WWTDP has come to a close. Many thanks to mdelpin for putting this together and getting so many people involved. You're a wizard, lovely.


End file.
